With or Without You
by Rochelle Allison
Summary: Edward and Bella were once high school sweethearts. Years later, their lives converge unexpectedly, forcing Bella to deal with and accept things she's long since tried to move past. This story started with "Trampoline", once a WitFit prompt.
1. Trampoline

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* * *

She jumps, carefree and indulgent, on her new trampoline. Every time she goes high the light filters through her hair, making a halo out of it; she's beautiful, she's mine.

We had another trampoline, but years of being outside finally did it in, and rot began to make it a dangerous device. She was so devastated when we threw it out, so we bought her another one, and it was delivered just today.

It's summertime, warm, golden, but also sweet and breezy beneath our tree. Dappled sunlight spills like honey through the branches of the over grown oak, the one he says he'll trim but never does.

And I hope he never ever does; I like it messy and wild… some things deserve to be that way. We plan and plan and plot and plan, and yet life just is. No amount of micro managing and pruning can set straight what's meant to be crooked.

A shriek and a giggle and my eyes are back on her, a smile on my own face growing in response to her simple joy. She's so little and yet she's so big; I have trouble believing she came from me.

The moving van that has been parked in the driveway next door since yesterday finally pulls away, and I wonder what their story is. They have kids, I know that much; I've heard the youthful voices drifting on over to our yard. Maybe I'll be neighborly and bring cookies over later; babycakes loves to help me bake, even though she does more spilling than stirring, her mouth guilty with chocolate and batter.

Movement from the corner of my eye makes me look and there stands a little boy, the cutest little thing with the prettiest hair I've ever seen – at least, on a boy. He looks longingly at the trampoline and the tireless fairychild on it, her dress flying up every time she does, revealing tiny red corduroy shorts underneath.

Laying my lemonade down, I stand up and wander over to the little boy, all the while glancing over to his new house so that I can meet his parents too.

"Did you want to play?" I ask him, recognizing desire in his grassgreen eyes.

"Yes, please," he lisps, his eyes steadfast on the prize.

I look again and this time I see who I assume is his father and I squint, holding my hand over my eyes because the sun is so so bright out here, away from the shelter of my oak.

"Excuse me," I call. "Is it all right if your son plays with my daughter? She just got a new trampoline, and…"

He turns around, smiling, only his smile dies when he sees me, and then so does mine.

He was the one, forever ago, that broke my heart.


	2. Lackadaisical

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* * *

What should have been a typical summer afternoon, lazy and carefree, has free fallen into angst of an ancient kind… my insides tighten accordingly.

He gazes back, steadily, untill the children's voices - his… mine… _not ours_ – severe the connection. Running a hand through his hair, which is shorter now than it was in high school, he blinks and looks down at the child at his knee.

"Can I, Daddy? Can I play over there?"

Edward looks back at me, and I have to look away, back at the grass, anywhere but at him.

Seeing him so suddenly is not unlike ripping open stitches that haven't yet healed.

Forcing myself to look at him once more I nod. "He's welcome to play… I've been outside all day…"

He knows I will watch over his child. He knows he can trust me.

"Sure, buddy. I'll be right here, okay?" he says, ruffling his son's hair.

"What's his name?" I ask quietly, watching as my daughter pauses long enough for her new companion to clamor aboard.

"Jaime."

I nod, trying not to wring my hands. I'm so confused, so caught off guard. The only thing that came close to being happy with him was being happy without him, and now it looks like I don't either one.

I hardly even thought about him anymore.

"What's… your daughter's name?" he asks. His voice sounds like he hardly uses it.

"Sophie," I exhale her name as a sigh. "Ok, well, I'll be over there." I point to my lawn chair and walk away, my breezy, lackadaisical mood now weighted.

"Bella," he says, and it hurts my heart to hear him say my name.

I glance over my shoulder.

"Thanks," he says, smiling a little bit.

Nodding, I take my place on my chair and reach automatically for the glass of lemonade I left behind.

Jaime and Sophie tag team, one in air while the other hits the surface. This silly dance makes them each bounce higher, and sometimes I fear for their safety, calling out every now and then for them to slow it down, cool out.

The sun continues its arc across the sky and by the time it starts to fade Edward has come to collect his tired little boy.

"Say thank you to Ms. Bella,"

"Thank you, Ms. Bella," Jaime repeats dutifully.

"Can he come tomorrow?" sings Sophie, her cheeks flushed from hours of jumping.

"Sure," I say, my eyes focused only on her.

But her eyes are on her new friend.

"I like him, Mommy," she says, after Edward and Jaime leave.

"Me too," I say. "He's really sweet." Tugging her gently along, we leave our flip-flops on the back porch and walk barefoot into the house.

"Yeah," she agrees.

Later, eating hotdogs on the patio, we watch the sun set, bleeding rouge and burnt sienna through the tree line.

"That's pretty," I say, appreciative for this sliver of contentment.

"Mhm" Sophie says. "Jaime's hair looks just like that."

My heart sinks as quickly as the sun.

I must get over what happened ten years before. Sophie's friends are spread out all over town and she doesn't have any as close as Jaime is now. It would be unfair for me to prevent their friendship because of Edward's actions that long ago.

"I miss daddy," Sophie says suddenly, coming over and sitting in my lap.

"Me too, baby," I whisper. "So much."


	3. Headstrong

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* * *

Sighing heavily, I turned the TV off and dropped the remote to the cushions beside me.

There was nothing on. Not that I was into television – there wasn't much to watch when you didn't have cable – but still. It's nice to unwind that way sometimes.

Because we were smack dab in the middle of summer, the nighttime breeze warm and lilting, the house didn't feel so barren. But I knew when things cooled down outside I would begin to feel trapped in here; the solitude would be overwhelming.

Jake and I had bought the house soon after we'd had Sophie. He'd already done a few tours in Afghanistan, and was set to stay home for a long stretch. I remember being so excited about everything; the possibilities had been so vast back then.

We put most of our savings into the house, and every little bit of extra that came our way went into the house, too.

When Jake died overseas, I wanted out.

I hated the house with all of its memories, its paint schemes we'd chosen together, the kitchen table where we'd shared breakfast with Sophie. I wanted to go someplace fresh and new, someplace sterile and blank. It was my mother who encouraged me to keep it.

She felt that Sophie would appreciate it if we stayed. Why uproot her right when she's lost her daddy, she'd asked. And she was right.

"Mommy?" a sleepy voice asked.

I startled slightly, turning around. "Hey, baby, what's up? You okay?"

"I wanna watch TV with you," Sophie said, rubbing her eyes and walking closer.

"I don't think so," I chuckled. She'd been asleep for a couple of hours – something must have roused her. "You need to go back to sleep. Come, I'll take you." I rose from my chair and held my hand out. She refused, folding her little arms and shaking her head.

"I wanna stay up," she insisted.

"Sophie. It's late – let's go," I repeated.

"No!" she said, looking away.

This wasn't the first time she had been drunk with sleep, and irrational.

"Just as headstrong as your daddy," I joked, pulling her along the hall.

Her room was a little girl's fantasy haven, a dreamy array of soft pastel. I tucked her back into bed, where her eyes began to flutter even though she thought she wanted to be up.

"Night babycakes," I whispered, kissing her cheek and tucking the blanket around her. I reset the little projector on her night stand so it showed the night sky on the ceiling.

Pausing in her doorway, my eyes caught on a light from next door. I could see right into Edward's house, I realized.


	4. Elopement

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* * *

We'd met my sophomore year, when I'd transferred to Forks High from a magnet school in Phoenix.

Edward was a junior, and there's a good chance our paths would never have crossed, except for the fact I had honors classes. One would think this meant I was brilliant, but really, it just meant the school I had been in before was light years ahead of Fork's curriculum. Having completed geometry and algebra II, I was placed in Pre-Calculus, but it was a little too advanced. When I began to have a little trouble, the teacher recommended a tutor, a junior named Edward Cullen.

Edward was one of those kids that seemed sort of good at everything. He played on several sports teams, excelled in academics, served as his class treasurer. And, he tutored students like me during his free periods.

We got along well from the very beginning, and it wasn't long before he asked me out. This earned me the envy and irritation of half the female student population, but I didn't care. I was just as smitten with the golden boy as they were.

By Christmas we were dating exclusively; he was my best friend and my boyfriend. While he wasn't my first kiss, he was certainly my first everything else. As the months flew by and then the years, I feared the day when we'd be separated by his graduation from high school. He'd been accepted to a number of excellent schools and was so excited to be leaving town.

The only thing marring his joy was me, and the fact that we'd be apart. Still, we both agreed it was best for him to take life by the horns and do what he needed to do. There was always Christmas, Spring Break, and summer – and then I'd be free, too.

I thought I'd die the day he left for college. He was journeying off to sunny San Diego while I'd be sequestered in rainy old Forks for another year. Nearly every night I struggled not to cry myself to sleep; the only things that got me through it were his phone calls and texts, and spending time with the other friends I'd made in the past two years.

He came home for the month of December. One day in the snow he gave me a little promise ring, asking if I wanted to unofficially agree to marriage one day. By New Years we joked about elopement, fantasizing about college life as newlyweds.

But things began to change after he returned to school. The phone calls grew less frequent; he was always so busy with class work, sports… his social life. _It's okay, _I'd remind myself._This is normal. He's happy. You don't want him to be miserable down there; that would be selfish._

Then I was accepted at a school near his. Originally we'd planned for me to visit him during Spring Break so I could check out the area, but when the time came to make reservations he hemmed and hawed so much that we ended up fighting over the phone. Confused and heartsick, I chose UW instead, figuring I'd be close to home that way. I could always transfer out if I didn't like it, anyway.

Edward came home for summer with a deep tan and a different haircut, evidence of his new life in southern California. On his first night back in town he picked me up, brought me to dinner, and proceeded to explain why it would be better if we were just friends.

I sat there, crying, my stomach in knots, trying to get that awful ring off my finger but it wouldn't budge.

Desperate, he tried to comfort me - I know he felt bad - but I didn't want his sympathy. I wanted _him._ I stood from the table and backed away, uttering the words that kept looping through my mind.

_You didn't just break my heart, you broke me._


	5. Skydiver

Disclaimer: All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

* * *

It was looking like a grilled cheese sandwich kind of day. Balancing cheddar, butter and a tomato in one hand, I gently kicked the fridge door closed.

Jacob.

Held by a magnet, right in the middle of the lists and reminders and snapshots, was one of my favorite pictures of us. I couldn't bear to take it down; we'd been so happy that day and seeing our smiles made me smile still. And it was one of Sophie's favorites, too.

It was the day he'd taken me skydiving for our anniversary.

Jacob had been skydiving for years, way before we'd gotten married. I used to tease him, asking him if he wasn't getting enough thrills by serving overseas… but that was Jacob. Initially I'd balked at the idea of going with him, but he'd convinced me in the end.

Another skydiver in the group, an aerial photographer who'd gone on more than a few jumps with Jacob, had taken a series of shots. This has been the best one, even if my skin was rippling in the wind and our goggles made us look like idiots. Sophie had often asked Jacob when he'd take her skydiving, and he'd promised he would as soon as she was old enough.

Guess that was up to me, now.

There was one thing that was certain; I hadn't any regrets about my life with Jacob, only that it hadn't been long enough. He'd been my best friend, my rock, my lover, the father of my child. Sometimes I wished we'd had a son, too, a little Jacob…but I knew in my heart that would have been so difficult, taking care of two children on my own. Sophie was my heart, and I loved her with all that I had and hopefully some more, to make up for the fact her Daddy had been taken from her.

One of my greatest fears was that she'd start to forget the details, and so I kept pictures all around the house, sharing stories with her as much as I could think to, even if it made me cry sometimes.

"Mommy?"

I looked over my shoulder, buttering a slice of bread. "What's up, baby?"

"Tomatoes are gross. Don't put any in mine."

"This is for me, missy. And just so you know, I hated tomatoes when I was your age too and now I love them so… what do you think of that?" I said, matching her sass with a dose of my own.

"I think… they're gross," she giggled, running off when I pretended to lunge at her.

I heard the gravel in the driveway, meaning someone had just pulled up. Probably Charlie, here to do yard work.

Sure enough, there was a knock at the door. "Bells?"

"Yeah, Dad," I wiped my hands on my pants and opened the kitchen door.

"You gonna let me trim the oak today?" he asked, catching me in a hug.

"I like it wild," I shrugged, walking away to flip Sophie's sandwich on the frying pan.

"Okay, but all it takes is one storm and those branches'll become dangerous. I'm not saying chop it down, Bells, I just want to cut some of the longer branches. Like the one by Sophie's room."

"I guess so," I sighed. "Sophie! Lunch!"

"Grandpa!" she cried, running straight into his arms.

"Hey, Tiny," he said, his cheeks reddening in pleasure. "You being good for your mom?"

"Yep," she skittered across the kitchen to the table, tearing into her sandwich.

"Prayers," I reminded her, tossing my own sandwich on to the pan. "You hungry, dad?"

"Nah, just ate. I'll be outside, okay?"

"Okay."

"Mom?" Sophie's words were garbled.

"Swallow, then talk," I said.

She made a show of swallowing her food. "Can Jaime come over today? Or can I go over there?"

My stomach knotted. It wasn't that I didn't like Jaime, because I did. He was extremely well behaved, if not a little rowdy. And that's how kids should be.

It's just, emotionally, it was still trying for me. His mother was nice, and certainly very attractive, but I tended to wonder what she had that made Edward want to marry her. Still. After all these years, after having had an amazing marriage of my own, I wondered. Edward was like a splinter in my finger, uncomfortable and impossible to ignore.

"Mommy," Sophie said impatiently, taking another huge bite.

"I guess so. Let me call his mom to see if it's okay," I nodded, moving to the phone.

Tanya said it was fine, that she'd just rented a movie for Jaime and was planning on making brownies later on. She seemed to already adore Sophie, and admittedly I was comfortable leaving my daughter at their house despite my feelings about the past. Tanya hadn't done anything to me, and she seemed like a good wife and mother. I supposed that was all I could ask for at this point; friends for Sophie and trustworthy people to help me watch out for her.

Much later that evening, when Charlie had gone home and the sun had set, Edward carried a sleeping Sophie back to our house.

"I can bring her to her bed," he whispered when I opened the door.

My eyes filled with tears and I turned before he could see, leading the way up the stairs. My heart was so wounded, in so many ways, from so many things. Jacob should've have been the one carrying my baby to bed.

And once, long ago, I would've wanted Edward to be the one that I had that baby with.


	6. Restaurant

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* * *

The last day of summer had been a lot of things for me over the years. As a kid, it was a bummer. More school? No, thank you.

As a college student, it was a relief. Forks was great but it was weighed down in memories I still hadn't moved past. The University of Washington at Seattle became the University of California at San Diego as I sought to put even more distance between myself and home.

As a young mother, it was a relief. Sophie got to socialize with her tiny friends at a little local preschool three days a week, from 8:30 to 12:30, and I got free time. I'd never, ever imagined that being a stay at home mom would work for me, but it did. I liked keeping the house, working on my novel, even gardening – much to my father's delight.

But now the last day of summer depressed me. Gone would be the six-year-old-sunshine in my life, relegated to the full time hours of the first grade. Forks had never been fantastically sunny, but it was a hell of a lot warmer during its middle months. Soon rain and chill would creep in through the unseen cracks and spaces, unfurling fingers of frost through windows I'd forgotten to close all the way or entryways where the space between the bottom of the door and the floor needed to be insulated.

The house would seem dimmer, and so would my mood; it was going to be difficult for me to maintain for Sophie. Jake had been gone a little less than a year. I'd received the news of his passing in the days before Thanksgiving. This would be the first time I'd be truly alone. It was one thing to be alone because your husband was always abroad, completely another because he was dead.

Soft rain pitter-pattered across the roof, one of my favorite sounds. Sophie and I had been indoors all day due to the weather, and I was beginning to get cabin fever.

She was sprawled across her bed, coloring, when I went to her room.

"Hey baby," I said, sitting beside her. Putting her crayon down, she rolled to her back, gazing at me. My eyes wandered to the colorful scene she was filling in, and I marveled at how well she stayed within the lines, how she shaded certain areas so expertly. Every parent is in constant awe of their child, and I was no exception.

"Hi Mama."

"I thought we could go to Fork's Diner tonight, for dinner," I said, twirling my finger through a lock of her hair. She was probably due for a trim, but her hair curled so beautifully at the ends and I couldn't bear to cut it.

"Yeah!" she sat up, her face flushed with sudden excitement. "Let's go!"

"You need to get out of your pajamas first," I reminded her, standing up.

"Okay, okay," she grumbled, yanking her ratty little shorts and t-shirt off with gusto. I handed her a pair of clean jeans and shirt and pointed to the door.

"I'm going to go change, and then we can go. Socks and shoes, too, please."

"Okay."

Minutes later she joined me by the front door.

"What…" I frowned, opening her raincoat a little wider to take a look at the t-shirt she was wearing. The t-shirt that I most definitely did not lay out for her. "Spider-man?"

A sheepish half-smile curled her mouth, and she tried to zip her raincoat over the t-shirt.

"Sophie."

"It's Jaime's," she said, the blush she'd inherited from me splashed all over her cheeks.

_For the love of God._

"Oh. Does his Mom know you have his shirt?"

"No," she shook her head in mild panic. "He said I could wear it!"

"All right, all right. Let's just go before the rain gets any nastier," I sighed, helping her with the zipper and covering her hair with the hood.

Fork's Diner was a madhouse.

Every table was filled to capacity, and there was a small queue congregated around the front door, as no one wanted to wait in what was now a full-fledged rainstorm.

Granted, the food was the down home delicious type, and the odd hippie meets sock-hop décor cozy and appealing, but a wait time? Really?

Groaning, I sagged against the wall with our number, prepared to wait it out. We'd come this far, and Sophie was already excited about the sundae she'd have after dinner. I wasn't leaving.

"Mom!" Sophie squealed a few minutes later, pulling at my jacket.

I glanced down at her, thankful for a distraction.

"Mom! Jaime and his Mom! Look!" She on tip toe now, pointing and slightly dancing around.

I wondered briefly if I had done something wrong, karmically, to deserve this. It seemed cruel; everywhere I turned I was met with reminders of my losses.

Tanya smiled gently at me from across the crowded restaurant, fluttering her fingers in a wave. She motioned for us to come over, and without asking me, Sophie started dragging me over.

"Hi, Tanya," I said. As sweet as she was, this was always so awkward… talking to her, catching up. It was weird to me and the poor girl didn't even know why.

I noticed Sophie zip down her raincoat as she slid into the booth beside Jaime and then zip it back up in a flash as he grinned in appraisal.

"Hey, Bella. Fancy seeing you here," she laughed, scooting over so I could sit next to her. "This is actually my first time here; I had no idea it was so popular!"

"It isn't usually," I said dryly, shrugging out of my coat. "I mean, people like it, but it's rare for it to be so crowded."

"Ah, okay. Edward suggested it," she shrugged, handing me one of the menus at the side of the table. "Said he came here a lot when he was younger."

My heart panged painfully. "Oh."

"So you grew up here too right?"

I nodded, my eyes on the menu. "Yes, I did. What about you? Forks must be awfully small compared to wherever you're from."

"Actually, it's not," she said softly. "I met Edward in San Diego, so I'm used to city life, but I'm from a small town in Alaska."

"Really?" I asked, totally surprised. "Do you still have family there?"

"Yep," she grinned. "We take turns doing the whole holiday thing – you know, sometimes here, sometimes up there."

"That's sounds really nice," I said honestly.

"It is. It's hard, having Edward working all the time… I hardly see him. The holidays are the one time of year where we're all together all the time," she said, sounding wistful.

I didn't pity her, but I could definitely relate. Jake had spent most of our marriage away, too.

"What… what does Edward do?"

"He's a surgeon."

"Are you serious?" I blurted.

She gave me a funny smile. "Um, yeah. He works a lot at the local hospital but then he goes to Seattle sometimes too."

"I just, had no idea. That's impressive."

She shrugged. "I guess. I mean, yes, it is. It's just hard because we never see him. I tease him that his job is his mistress."

So maybe things weren't as perfect as they seemed in the house next door.

But really, when are they ever?


	7. Carpool

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* * *

I've grown soft over the summer, undisciplined, spoiled by reading late into the night and snuggling late into the morning, sometimes with Sophie, sometimes without.

Alarm clocks and schedules have not been a part of my world for nearly three months, and waking up to the shrillness of both is both jarring and unwelcome. Even when it's not particularly cold outside, my creaky wooden floors seem to stay cool – which is welcome during the hotter months of summer, but not so early in the morning.

But I'm a barefoot kind of girl, so I shiver and yawn my way to Sophie's room.

"Time to get up," I whisper, sitting on her narrow bed. She stirs and turns away, pulling her blankets up higher each time I tug them lower. "Sophie. Now."

With a groan she sits up, her hair wild and wavy and loosened from the ponytail I pulled it into before bed.

"Cheerios or oatmeal?"

"Pancakes," she whispers, rubbing her eyes.

"I'll do pancakes on Saturday. Cereal or oatmeal?"

"Cereal," she says, sliding off the bed.

She sleeps in socks, smart girl.

Because it is the first day of school, the first day of the first grade, I walk Sophie all the way inside. We met her teacher the week before during orientation, someone who, to my happy surprise, is a girl I knew in high school. Angela Weber was a grade ahead of me, a kind and friendly girl. I like knowing that my child will be spending her days with Angela. It puts my heart at ease.

The sky has been pregnant with swollen rain clouds all morning, and now a drop splats fatly on to my cheek as I cross the parking lot. I'm unlocking the door when another car pulls up beside me, and I turn around, not that surprised when Edward smiles hesitantly back.

"Hi, Bella."

Opening the door, I sit on the seat, leaving the door open. "Hi, Edward."

Oddly – or maybe appropriately – enough, I talk to Tanya a lot more than I speak to Edward. Things feel pretty to the point with her. With him, I have no idea.

"How's everything? Sophie okay in school?"

"Yeah, she loves it," I shrug, feeling weird with how stilted our conversations are. We used to talk for hours, about anything and everything. "How's Jaime?"

"He's excited, especially because Sophie's there," Edward grins, shaking his head. "If I didn't know any better I'd say they _like_-liked each other."

"God help us all," I mutter, looking at the windshield.

"You can't avoid me forever," he says quietly.

I look back at him, into those bright green eyes that not even the weather is able to dull. "Why not? You avoided me for years."

"That's not true," he frowns.

Ah, now we're touching on things. My stomach twists in an ugly way, and I jam my keys into the ignition.

"Bella."

"What? C'mon, it's raining," I say, trying hard not to be bitchy. It isn't Edward's fault my life is the way it is right now. I know that, really, but having him thrust so unexpectedly back into my life this way seems unfair somehow.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he can't look at me now.

"Me too," I nod. "I have to run a few errands…I'll see you later, okay?" I shut the door and buckle my seatbelt, relieved when he drives away.

* * *

The phone rings in the middle of dinner.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bella? It's Tanya…sorry to call so late."

"It's seven," I chuckle. "Not that late. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd be interested in carpooling. You know, take turns driving the kids to and from school?"

"I would, actually. Which d you prefer, morning or afternoon?"

"Afternoon," she says, and then laughs. "I'm definitely not a morning person."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, because everyone says that. I don't mind mornings, though.

"Okay, well, I'll take Jaime tomorrow morning then," I say, ignoring Sophie, who is now dancing in her seat.

"Oh my goodness, that would be great. Thank you so much!"

"No problem, it helps me too."

"All right, we'll see you tomorrow."

Sophie grins slyly at me, twirling her spaghetti indulgently around her fork. "We're gonna be driving Jaime?"

"In the morning, yes, and then his mom will drive you guys home after school."

"Awesome!" she sings.

"Finish your food."

In bed that night, my thoughts wander to Edward.

"_You can't avoid me forever…"_

I'd thought I was subtle, but apparently he's noticed.

He's right, though. I can't keep dancing around the unspoken. I'm beginning to think that it would be a good idea to talk to him – really talk – and get things out in to the open. I know that shutting myself off from him years before, even when he tried to be friends later on, was counterproductive, but it was the only way I knew how to protect myself.

My current heartsickness has nothing to do with him, even though the memory of what we used to be aches when I look at him in the flesh.

Still, we were close once.

Maybe, we'll be close again..


	8. Crackle

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Thanks, Nic, for the pre-read and beta finish. xoxo

* * *

It's a dry, clear October day when the things I touch crackle with static and the leaves outside twirl themselves in tiny tornadoes.

Early in the morning Tanya calls to ask if we can switch for the day; she'll do the morning run while I take on the afternoon. Her dentist's appointment in Port Angeles, scheduled six months prior, is right around the time the children get out of school.

That's fine, I say. It makes little difference to me.

When I get home, equal parts annoyed and amused by the backseat fracas, I'm surprised to see Edward's car in his driveway. He keeps predictably unpredictable doctor's hours, gone for days at a time and then home for a day or two.

Unsure of whether I should keep Jaime as planned or just return him to his father, I sit for a moment in the car, playing idly with the radio dial.

"Mommy," Sophie says after a moment, her tone absent because as always, she's focused on the little boy to her left. Their companionship is near symbiotic these days and I hope to God it stays platonic as they grow older, that hormones will never, ever interfere with the simplicity and ease they share.

Her utterance of my name was rhetorical; they go on playing for another minute until I turn off the car.

"Looks like your Dad's home, J," I say when I open the back door. "You want to go to him now?"

His face falls a bit as he slides out of the backseat, and he looks to Sophie for moral support.

"Or, you can come over for a while," I offer hastily. "Have a cookie first."

"Yeah!" Sophie says, tugging her backpack out after her.

"'Kay," he nods, grinning as he race-walks Sophie to the front door.

Unlocking the front door, I step aside to let the children in first. Edward looms in my peripheral as he steps out on to his porch.

"Hey," he says, loping across the small expanse of grass between our homes.

"Hi," I nod, remembering to smile.

"I um… didn't know if you knew I was home, if you wanted Jaime to just…" he motions toward his house.

"Oh, we saw your car. The kids wanted cookies or whatever, so, I figured I'd bring him home in a bit."

"Oh," he nods, sliding his hands into his pockets. We share one of our normal, hideously awkward silences.

"Do you want," I pause, staring at the threshold of the door, how the paint is white and chipping in places. "To come in for coffee?"

"Yes," he nods, eager and ready because I suppose this is what he's been waiting for: his bitter harpy of an ex girlfriend to finally let him say his piece.

We walk, wordless, into the kitchen, where Jaime frowns at his father. "Dad, I was gonna have a cookie…"

"Hello to you too," Edward scoffs playfully, feigning hurt.

"Hi Dad," his little one rolls his eyes and comes closer, offering a half hearted hug. "I wanted to play."

"That's fine, buddy, go ahead. I'll just talk to Ms. Bella for awhile."

I set the kids up with cookies and milk at the coffee table in the TV room… I note with inner amusement I'm _that_ mom and we live the American dream didn't you know… before returning to Edward in the kitchen.

He's looking at my pictures on the fridge, and I know he wants to ask about Jacob.

"He died last Thanksgiving," I say, leaning against the counter.

Edward turns really slowly, his face turned down as he sits. "I…know. Your- Charlie told me."

"When did you speak to Charlie about that?"

"One day, right before we moved back. I saw him at the hardware store and we ended up talking awhile."

"Is that right," I murmur, dumping the morning's old coffee and rinsing the carafe before brewing a fresh pot.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he says.

"For what, exactly?" The words are out before I can stop them and I wonder - not for the first time - why I am still affected by him.

"For lots of things. But, I meant for your loss. I'm really, really sorry," he says quietly, folding his arms across his chest as he leans back.

"Thanks," I nod. "I'm sorry too."

"You say that a lot."

"What? That I'm sorry?"

He nods, raising his eyes to meet mine. "That you're sorry _too."_

"Well, I am," I shrug.

"I never thought… you'd still be this upset with me. Not that I don't deserve it," his voice tapers off and he seems flustered, the tips of his ears red.

"I … wasn't. Not until I saw you," I say truthfully. "I hadn't really thought about you that way in years."

"I thought about you," he says.

"Why?"

"I don't know," he shrugs.

The coffee percolates behind us, and in the living room, the TV goes on.

"Would you like a cookie?" I ask, setting a small plate down in the center of the table.

He takes one and bites in to it, his eyes popping wider in surprise. "These are good," he mumbles, and crumbs fall all over his mouth and the beginnings of his beard.

He reminds me of his son.

He reminds me of high school-him.

He's still so…

"How do you like your coffee?"

"Milk and sugar," he recites.

"Me too," I say, surprised.

Sitting at the table now, we sip and sometimes stare.

Finally, "So why'd you dump me, Edward?"

He frowns, shaking his head. "It's… it's shitty."

"Were you cheating on me? With Tanya?"

He looks at me like I've sprouted another head. "No, Bella. I wasn't cheating. And I didn't meet Tanya until right before my first year of med school."

"Oh." This surprises me.

I'd always assumed there'd been someone else, if not before than certainly because.

He takes a really deep breath. "You know the song Free Fallin'? By Tom Petty?"

I nod.

"That… that's kind of what I felt like. I wanted to just, I don't know… be free of everything. I knew what I was doing, I knew I was breaking your heart, but I just needed to do my own thing for awhile. I can't explain it – it was strangling me…school, work, my parents…you…"

I stare incredulously at him. "I thought that song alluded to drug use. Are you trying to tell me something?"

"It's not about drug use," he argues as if it matters, setting his cup down and reaching for another cookie.

"Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, that's it? _That's_ your reason for breaking up with me like that?" My voice is getting louder, and I try to rein things in before the children hear. "That's …"

And then I'm laughing, so hard I'm crying. Because his reason is so anti climactic, and so impossibly self absorbed and riddled with teenage angst and just God-awful pretentious I can't even deal with it.

Then I'm just crying. I shove my plate with its cookie crumbs away and drop my head onto my arms, tears leaking out of my eyes, nothing left, nothing left.

"Bella."

Wiping my face on my sleeve, I look up at him. "That's really stupid, Edward. Really frigging stupid. I loved you back then. You made me hate you, and all because of a song? My God. I hated you for years. Sometimes I think I still do."

He pales, pushes his own plate away.

"I think I hoped you'd always be around," he admits after a minute. "I know I was an asshole, I'm not trying to get out of that. But, I did come back for you once."

I didn't know that.

I don't even know him. I stand up and stack our plates.

"I needed to know…"

I all but toss the plates in to the sink. "Needed to know what?"

"If you had moved on."

"Why?"

He is quiet so long I turn back around. Sophie and Jaime come thundering back into the kitchen.

"Mom, can we watch Transformers?"

"No, you need to do homework now," I say, smoothing the mess of dark tendrils flowering around her face.

"Mom," she whines.

"We should get going anyway," Edward says, standing up. "Mom will be home soon. Go put your shoes on."

Jaime slinks off to find his sneakers, Sophie following as if an invisible thread attaches the two of them.

Edward starts to speak then silences himself. When he tries again I hold my hand up like some sort of conversational crossing guard warding off oncoming word-traffic.

"Not now, Edward." _Maybe not ever._

Something I feel I recognize flashes across his face and mentally I grab for it - I know that look - but it's gone now. Jaime comes back with his backpack and shoes and takes his father's hand.

They walk out on to the porch, the screen door swinging shut behind them like an exclamation point.


	9. Window

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

* * *

Like ships passing in the night.

This is one of those phrases that always makes me laugh inside.

I'm not sure why; perhaps it's because it is stodgy and like something my Harlequin romance-reading mother would say.

Regardless, that is what Edward and I are. We see each other in abbreviated clips and flashes; exchanges of children at the door, taillights disappearing down a driveway. Sometimes these snippets are in audio: I hear his laugh blending with Jaime's, or floaty notes of his guitar.

I didn't know he played guitar. He was forced to take piano as a kid, and as I remember he got older he appreciated it. But guitar? Must have been one of his Southern California things like hair he had to flip out of his face and board shorts.

No one wears board shorts in Forks but he sure did, the summer he came home to dump me.

His _free fallin_ summer.

The days in October come and go and then it is the day before Halloween. Sophie and Jaime are having their first for-real fight, something more major than backseat bickering or a disagreement over which game to play.

She's upset because he wants to go trick or treating with boys from their class.

Without her.

It doesn't matter, I say. I'll take her myself, but no - she wants him. I'm surprised because up till now they've been thick as thieves, but sometimes boys just want to be with other little boys.

I call my friend Leah. She's got a daughter Sophie's age; they played a lot as toddlers.

Years ago, right in the middle of things being generally perfect, we found out her husband was having an affair. Sophie and I were forgotten in the subsequent shuffle – not that I ever, ever blamed Leah – and it's only recently that we've reconnected.

As luck would have it, she and little Natalie are free for the evening.

Later on, after sweeping through Leah's neighborhood, we start down our own. Ghouls and superheroes and fairies and princesses frolic in the streets and the girls hit house after house, giggling as they trample through people's yards, filling their buckets with treats.

It's not until later, when Leah and Nat have gone home and I'm walking a sugar-drunk Sophie to our walkway that we see Edward sitting on his porch steps with Jaime, dividing the spoils of the evening into piles.

Jaime's eyes widen, and he looks like he wants to say something but Sophie scowls and scampers by.

I look at Edward and shrug, and he shrugs back.

I resist the urge to tell my daughter about those Cullen men.

* * *

The dynamic duo might be feuding but life goes on and come Monday morning I'm in the driveway, waiting for Jaime to get his butt in the car so we can go to school.

Tanya walks him over, whispering a sleepy good morning as she buckles him in.

By the time we reach Forks Elementary they're on speaking terms once again.

I wish grownups operated this way.

I'm in the yard later that day, raking leaves and sweating despite the cold air.

"Bella?"

I pause and look over. Tanya's standing on their deck, a hand on her hip.

"You want a cup of coffee?"

I don't really, but I suspect she's lonely and so I oblige.

I'm good at being alone, but I'm not completely _on my own_; I've family and friends from as far back as childhood in this town. Tanya is still a little isolated, and whether this is of her own volition or something else I feel the need to be her friend.

Their house is similar to ours, but newer on the inside. The kitchen is especially sleek and modern, quite different to my cozy version that just screams of the seventies… not that I mind. I love my home.

Still, I can appreciate what they've "done to the place" as I settle into an ergonomically appropriate chair at the counter, high as a bar stool but comfy as an armchair.

We sit and chat until a buzzer goes off from somewhere inside the house, and Tanya excuses herself to put clothes in to the dryer. When she returns she looks at me a certain way and I just _know_ she has questions.

"So, we were at my in-laws this weekend…"

…I still think of them as Edward's parents…

"And, I was looking through old albums. I saw Edward's prom pictures… I'd never actually seen them before – I don't know how." She smiles into her coffee cup.

I know where this is going, but I sit quietly, waiting for her to say what she needs to say.

"There were some really nice ones of the two of you together… I had no idea, Bella."

Smiling a little, I nod. "That was a long time ago."

Tanya tilts her head. "Edward said you dated for two years?"

"Yeah, just about," I say, setting my coffee cup down.

"And now you're neighbors. That's, that's…" she trails off, obviously not sure _what_ it is.

"It was eleven years ago. Maybe twelve." I shrug, wondering if there's a point or if we're Just Chatting.

"Yeah." She nods slowly, wrapping her hands around the mug. "That's small town life I guess. Everyone has history with someone."

"Ain't that the truth," I laugh.

"Do you ever wonder?" she asks suddenly, her blue eyes sudden and piercing.

"About?"

"How things could have been if… you know." She won't say it, but neither will I.

"Not really," I lie. "We're all different people now."

"I wonder sometimes," she says really quietly, as if saying it loud will make it truer.

"About what?"

"How things could have been."

I don't know what she means, or if I even want to know, but she seems to trust me. So I wait for her to go on.

"We didn't mean to get pregnant with Jaime," she says. "I mean, now he's the best part of my life, but… it changed things, you know?"

I do know. Children change everything. Some people welcome the struggle and others struggle against it.

"I don't want you thinking I'm –"

"I don't think anything, Tanya," I say, unable to bear her guilty rambling. "Things happen, I get it. What matters is you're happy about it now, right?"

"I am," she agrees. "But sometimes it's just _so_ hard, him being gone all the time. I just –it's not what I expected, you know?"

Ah. Edward.

"I know what you mean. I knew what I was getting into with Jake but I chose to do it anyway. I guess… they're just doing what they love," I say weakly. My troubles aren't hers. I can't pretend to understand where she is _really_ coming from because while I'd missed Jake every second we were apart, I'd fully understood and accepted what he was doing.

At the time, anyway.

Tanya still seems conflicted, and I wonder how that could be after this many years of marriage. They met while he was in med school for God's sake; didn't they talk about this?

"You think I'm ridiculous," she says, sharp edges gilding her soft voice.

"I just don't really understand," I admit.

"I don't either, Bella. I don't either."

* * *

After reading to Sophie in bed, I kiss her goodnight and turn off the lamp.

Her curtains are still open from earlier, and from the angle at which I'm sitting I can see the stars.

Yawning, I walk quietly to the window to close them, surprised that once again I can see into the house next door.

Edward sits on the edge of a bed, Jaime's bed – I recognize the ocean theme on his wall – staring at the floor. He looks completely worn out, worn down.

I gaze at him and maybe he feels it because he lifts his head and looks right at me, resting his chin in his hands as he stares without blinking.

* * *

_these chapters will always be brief._

_try to keep in mind the difference between highschool relationships and those you may have in your late 20s. we do change, you know._


	10. Hazel

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

* * *

I wear glasses when I write.

The glare of the computer screen is made a little less offensive by the special screen I use, but it still take its toll on my eyes. Maybe I could wear glasses all the time, or contacts, but that feels like such a production.

Maybe it isn't; I don't know.

Days are spent in writing; essays and articles for which I will get paid and my novel that might end up in the trash but it's my one true creative outlet, my labor of love, and so I don't give up.

Besides, Jake was always my biggest supporter, after Charlie. He'd wanted me to write because _I'd_ wanted to write.

My stomach aches the way it does when I think about him unexpectedly; an isolated picture in my mind becomes a thousand and then I'm crying again, salt silently slicking down my cheeks.

Time for a break.

The phone rings – it always, _always_ frigging startles me – and I pick it up before it can cry out again, irritated that my precious quiet time, selfish time set aside for weeping and thinking and general self-indulgent melancholia, is leaking away.

"Hello?"

"Bella? It's me – listen can you come over real quick? I need your help with something," Tanya says.

I don't mind her, but I do mind this.

Still, "Just give me a minute."

"Thanks, girl," she says, sounding relieved.

It's cold enough to warrant something more than an ancient UW sweatshirt but I'm only going across the yard. I don't even bother with shoes.

"Tanya?" I call, coming in through the back door, my preferred point of entry for their house.

"In here!"

I walk toward her voice, judiciously ignoring the pictures on the walls, until I find her in the living room, beside a ladder.

"You're going to laugh," she says, shaking her head. "But I have slight vertigo. Could you help me change this light bulb?"

_Seriously?_

I ignore my bitchy inner monologue and take the squiggly environmentally friendly bulb from her before climbing the ladder.

"Just hold it steady, okay?" Their living room ceiling is much higher than ours is, and I see suddenly why someone uncomfortable with heights would balk at such a routine task.

I am back on the floor within seconds, handing her the dusty, older bulb.

"Thanks. I swear I'm not as useless as I look," she says, and I can see she's actually a little sheepish.

Guilt floods me because I am often annoyed by her and I just don't know why.

It isn't because she's Edward's wife. It's something subtler, something less tangible.

Maybe I'm just salty she has a man for whom she seems ungrateful and I'm alone.

"It's okay." I smile and fight the urge to pat her shoulder. "I'll see you soon."

"Yeah, I gotta get going soon. I need to run to the store before picking up the kids."

"Okay." I nod, turning to leave. "Oh, I keep meaning to ask, are you staying in Forks for Thanksgiving or going to your parents?"

"We're going home," she breathes, relief evident on her face. "I can't wait. I miss it."

"That'll be great," I say, squeezing her hand before walking back out into the cold afternoon.

It makes me sad that she can't think of Forks as home. What would I do in her situation? We're too different, personality-wise, to tell.

Maybe time will be kind to her, and ease her troubled opinions on things.

But probably not.

* * *

As much as Sophie loves rolling in the grass and playing Wii with Jaime, she is still a girly-girl at heart. She loves the little dress she and I have chosen for Thanksgiving dinner, paired with her favorite ballet flats and a matching cardigan.

God, I love her.

Sometimes, at night, I dream that I have a son too, a little Jacob with shiny dark eyes and hair like black silk. Awake, I know that this would be an even greater strain on me emotionally and financially, but that doesn't stop me from wishing.

"You look great, Mommy," Sophie assures me, watching as I apply mascara. "Can I have some?"

"You don't need it," I say, doing the other eye.

"So?"

"_So_? How about lip gloss…"

"Okay." She sidles off the bed and comes to stand beside me, her face tilted up in quiet expectation.

Despite the fact that one of my favorite holidays will now always coincide with the worst day of my life – the news of Jacob's death – I still look forward to spending this time with my parents. Thanksgiving is always a cozy affair over there, even though there's usually a hearty helping of family to deal with.

"You look beautiful," my mother says when she opens the door. "And you are such an angel," she adds, her eyes round and wet with love for her only grandchild.

The smell of good things all around dissolves any residual tension I may or may not have had lingering. Sophie leaves me to go find Uncle Seth, who always plies her with chocolate, and I make my way to the kitchen to find Charlie.

"Hey Daddy," I whisper, planting a cheek on his rough cheek. "No shaving today?"

"Your mother likes stubble," he sighs, but I know he loves it.

"I do too," I admit, looking around the kitchen. As always, he was the one who cooked most of the food. Renee, for her love of entertaining and good food, isn't much of a cook.

Charlie not only taught me to catch fish as a kid, he taught me to cook it too.

* * *

In the overfed, sluggish time between dinner and dessert, when the men instinctively migrate toward the television and the women convene to scrape plates and talk pie, I check on Sophie. She's tucked in the den, watching a movie with somebody's cousin; she doesn't even know I'm there.

Back in the kitchen I help myself to another glass of wine and wander to the front porch, eager for the brisk awake the night chill brings.

The porch swing creaks as I sit on it, and I'm comforted that some things do not change. It's so small-town, this swing, and I realize I love that.

The door opens and out comes Garrett, one of the newer lawyers in town that Charlie has become acquainted with. He's a genuinely nice guy, extremely good looking, and I've caught him looking at me more than once.

"Hey Bella," he says quietly, a glass of wine in one hand and a beer in the other. He laughs a little, awkwardly setting the wine glass down. "I… thought you might want a refresher, but it looks like you got one."

"Thanks," I say, giving him a quick smile. "So, are you enjoying yourself? They're a crazy bunch, I know."

"No, it's great," he laughs. "It was nice of Charlie to include me."

I finish my glass of wine and exchange it for the one Garrett brought out. "He does like showcasing his culinary prowess…"

"Yeah, well, I'm used to good home cooking. It would have sucked to have been alone this year."

"Where are you from?"

"Springfield, Massachusetts."

"You're a long way from home," I comment, standing up. I've had enough of the porch and its swing; it's freezing out.

Perhaps it's my heels or maybe it's the wine, but I trip a little as I walk toward the door, prompting Garrett to catch me by my elbow. His eyes are an unusual hazel, almost gold.

"Thanks," I murmur, slightly embarrassed.

He shrugs, and opens the door for me, and smiles this brilliant smile.


	11. Leaves

All recognizable characters, names, places etc belong to their respective owners, in this case - Stephenie Meyer. I don't own Twilight, but I do own this particular plot.

* * *

It's late, this time, when I hear the music.

Around two or three…and I can't sleep, which is rare. My appetite might go, even my urge to get out of bed. But falling asleep?

Easy.

I lay in bed, blankets pulled to my chin, toes peeking out, staring at the window beside the bed. In the autumn I leave it open a crack, craving the cool, crisp air. Tonight, though, it's letting in more. Tonight I hear Edward and his guitar, plucking and strumming and singing and … aching.

Tiptoeing to the window, I peer out, trying to see if he's out on his deck. I can't see him, but I can see that the house is dark.

Which makes sense. It is, after all, two or three a.m.

If my husband was sitting alone in the dark, strumming sadness, I'd go to him.

I'm not his wife.

But I go to him anyway.

He's surprised when I approach him, barefoot on the cold grass.

"Bella."

"Hey." I climb up the wooden stairs to their deck.

"Did I wake you up?" He looks everywhere but at me.

"No, I couldn't sleep anyway."

Now that he's stopped playing, there is no sound at all. We're in a vacuum.

Sitting on the top step, I tuck my knees in and pull my sweater down over them. "Are you okay?"

"Tanya's staying with her parents an extra week."

On an instinctive level, this doesn't surprise me at all.

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, knowing it probably is.

"I'm okay," he says, playing again with the chords.

"When did you start playing?"

"In college."

"San Diego?"

"Yep."

We don't speak for a minute. I run my forefinger over my thumb, wincing when I feel the jagged nail that needs trimming.

"Play me something," I say, asking before I've really thought about it.

He starts right away, a tune that's so familiar that when he starts to quietly sing along I find myself singing too –and I don't ever sing.

It's one of my favorite songs.

In another time and place, a parallel universe, we would be in this place, living and loving this song together. It's sort of surreal to be sitting outside with him while he plays it, plays it _well_, the air brisk and the stars scattered stark and silver across the sky.

At the end of the song my cheeks are wet and I remember where I am. I wipe my face on my sleeves and get up to leave. He pulls my arm, the first time he's touched me on purpose in eleven years, and I freeze.

"Are you happy?"

There is both relief and loss when his hand falls away. "Are you?"

"Sometimes," he says.

"Same with me." The cold is getting to me, the way it always does after a awhile, and I shiver. "I'm going to try and sleep. You should try too."

"I will." And he does, I think.

* * *

Sophie and I spend the afternoon having a private memorial for her father. We look at pictures in an album and listen to songs he loved. Sophie cries a little but not as much as she did when Jacob's passing was still recent and fresh.

Tanya calls when I am cleaning up, informing me that she and Jaime have decided to stay another week with her parents. I know this but I thank her for letting me know.

Sophie's near devastated she has to wait another week before she can see her best friend.

I wonder what's going with those two, reall_y._

By the time Tanya comes back, it's been a quiet week. Edward hasn't been outside, playing guitar, and imagine he's in the midst another crazy work schedule.

She smiles wistfully the morning we resume our carpool arrangement. "Back to the grind."

"Yeah," I say, nodding."How was your vacation?"

"Oh, incredible. It's gorgeous time of year. What about you? You had dinner over at your parent's?"

"Yeah, the usual. It's great though, Sophie loves going over there."

Tanya nods, and I notice her shoulders are rounded, like she's defeated.

All at once I understand, and I feel for her. She feels for Juneau the way I feel for Forks.

* * *

Garrett is persistent.

He calls several times before I finally pick up, always around the time when I've finished writing for the day and I'm getting ready for Sophie to come home. The messages he leaves are brief and polite, punctuated each time by a promise to call again.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bella? It's Garrett – from the other night. Thanksgiving."

"Hi, Garrett. How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks. How've you been?"

"I'm okay," I say, shrugging to myself.

He pauses and I have a feeling I know what he wants to say.

"Listen, I know we don't even really know each other but… I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me… or get coffee."

"I don't date," I say after a moment. As attractive as he is, I can't imagine actually _seeing_ him that way.

"Just coffee, then."

I've a million reasons to say no but I say yes.

Coffee becomes lunch which becomes dinner and sometimes he comes to the house. Initially I'm nervous about Sophie but she doesn't seem to mind him. He doesn't try too hard and she isn't bitter, and I find it isn't as weird to have another man in my house as I'd thought it would be.

He is kind and funny and appealing and smart, but I'm still pretty broken inside. I tell him this, let him know from the beginning not to expect much, and in this way we manage to forge a pleasant but fragile arrangement seasoned with unrequited wanting on his side and subtle guilt on my mine.

But Garrett is a good listener, and maybe it's because he's a lawyer but he's got a way of asking questions I actually answer, of extracting information out of me. I know he likes me, but he isn't aggressive about it. His intentions are clear but he doesn't act like he has an agenda.

Still, he tries once to kiss me goodnight and I have to push him away.

"Sorry," he whispers, his face tight and washed in remorse.

"I can't," I say. The thought of kissing anyone makes me feel like I'm being unfaithful.

_Well, anyone except for Edward_.

This is not a welcome thought, but it's not surprising either. I've known for awhile now that my feelings for Edward are in the murky in-between. It's one reason I interact with Tanya way more than I do with him.

Another reason is the way he looks at me.

"Bella?" Garrett puts his hand on the doorframe. "I'm really sorry. I know you aren't ready for that and I, I just…I shouldn't have, okay? I can wait."

"You'll be waiting a long time," I tell him, not unkindly. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

He looks sheepish. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

On Saturday we take Sophie ice skating at the pond. Garrett's good with Sophie. He holds one hand while I hold the other and we skate in long, lazy loops around the outside edges.

"Aren't those your neighbors?" Garrett asks suddenly.

Edward, Tanya and Jaime are easing onto the ice at the opposite end of the pond. It's the first time I've actually seen the three of them together.

Edward looks at Garrett and then he looks at me and it's clear as day he doesn't like what he sees.

I ought to be disgusted. He sure as hell has no right to like or not like anything concerning me.

Instead, my heart betrays me by skipping a beat.

* * *

_I'm still on St. Croix. Finding an internet cafe to post this has been... entertaining. :)_


	12. Frost

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

* * *

Leah's hip sway slowly side to side, sinuous little movements to the song she's got playing. In the living room her old school stereo still soldiers on, its scratches and smudges testaments to the years. In high school she'd had it tucked onto a dusty shelf, sandwiched between books and stuffed animals.

I can't believe she still has it.

"When was the last time you saw them in concert?" she asks, mincing a clove of garlic.

I pluck a cherry tomato out of a bowl near the sink, rolling it between my fingers as I listen to the lyrics."2001 maybe? 2002? Before Sophie was born."

"I saw them last year; it was great," she says, nodding toward the bulb of garlic to my left. "We should go again, next summer."

"Okay." I hand her the garlic. I'd help but she won't let me; too many hands in the pot and all that. Leah's kitchen is her castle.

"So Edward's wife is okay?" she asks, out of the blue but not really.

"She's fine." I shrug, popping the little tomato in my mouth, pleased at the tangy gush between my teeth. "I feel kind of bad for her."

"Why?"

"She seems lonely. Edward works all the time."

"So? Jacob worked all the time too."

"_So_ they're not us, Leah. Not everyone is built that way," I say, wondering why I bother to defend things I myself have wondered about.

Leah glances at me, smirking. "She sure as hell doesn't mind the money he makes, I bet."

And then, "how do you feel about him?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, reaching for another tomato.

The song ends, and I hear girly giggles whispering out from Natalie's bedroom down the hall.

"You know just what I mean. It's a slippery slope, Bella. Watch it." There is an edge in her voice, and her jaw is set hard.

"Don't do that," I breathe, hating how my heart lurches at her words. "Their issues have nothing to do with me. Neither do your issues."

But Leah knows this. Speaking her mind has little to do with my moral character and all to do with her past pain.

Nodding, she slides a loaf of fresh French bread toward me. "Here. You can slice this."

The next song starts and wouldn't you know?

It's the one Edward played for me weeks before.

Fate has a hurtful sense of humor.

* * *

The frost comes and with it, the holidays. Sophie and I divide our days between my family and Jacob's, the way we always have around Christmas.

It is a little easier than it was the year before, and I find myself thinking I'm glad Sophie was relatively young when her daddy died. She misses him, but she's resilient, not having the Pandora's Box of memories I must contend with.

The house next door is dark; they've gone again to Juneau. Tanya said once they took turns celebrating various holidays each family, but it's looking like Juneau is winning out. I can't say I blame her, but I have to wonder how Edward feels about it. His parents and brothers and sisters have always been tight, and I can only imagine how his absence, and his wife and child's, affects them.

One evening in late December Garrett is on the couch with Sophie, watching a movie while I make snacks in the kitchen.

He has become one of my best friends. We spend hours in conversation; he often comes by after work and then stays for dinner. He remains patient with me, and I think he senses that I am finally allowing myself to feel things for him.

I have just embellished Sophie's cocoa with extra whipped cream when Garrett comes quietly into the kitchen and leans against the counter.

"She's asleep, you know."

"She is?" I glance at the clock; it's hardly nine. "Guess she was worn out."

"I can… bring her to bed if you want," he offers.

"Um… you don't have to do that. I like tucking her in."

He nods, hands in his pockets, reminded of his limitations.

"You can finish topping these though." I give him a smile and the can of cream.

I love my daughter's softness and smell, and I bury my nose in both as I struggle up the stairs, filled with wonder and nostalgia.

She hardly stirs when I snuggle her into sheets and blankets, when I click on her night light and shut the door.

Downstairs, the television is on but muted, and Garrett waits for me, mugs in hand. One sip makes me laugh a little and I peer at him, thumbing cream off my nose.

"Did you put Kahlua in these?"

"And vodka," he says, winking.

Sometimes, he makes me forget to be sad.

Garrett wants to take Sophie skiing before school resumes and I'd like to get away from Forks for a while so we spend New Year's in the mountains, where Garrett has a place. Three days of sunshine and snow bring us closer together, and when he begins to hold my hand as we walk from place to place I find I have no reason to ask him not to.

The night we return home he kisses me on the corner of my mouth and it makes my heart pound and my hands shake, partly because I don't want it and partly because I do.

So intent am I on watching him drive away I barely see the approaching shadow until it is practically in front of me and I gasp in shock, my heart racing for different reasons now.

"Tanya! God, don't do that! You scared me…"

But then I see that she's crying, almost hysterically.

"Where's Jaime?" I ask, grabbing her arm. "What's wrong?"

"He's fine, he's – he's asleep," she sputters, wiping the back of her hand across her nose. "I'm sorry, I just…. I have no one else. No one else."

"No one else to what?" I pull her inside and sit her at the table, my own stomach in knots.

She sits for a moment, trying to collect herself, leaving me to think the worst types of things.

"I think I'm pregnant."

Nausea swells faintly through me and I collapse in to the chair beside her, taking her hand.

"You don't want that?"

She shakes her head, fresh tears streaming down her face. "I can't do it. Not again. I can't. "

"What did Edward say?"

"He doesn't know."

"When did you find out?"

"I'm about a week late."

I settle back into my chair, trying to make sense of things. "So you don't really know, then."

"No." She shakes her head again, breathing deeply. "But I'm never late. And there was a time, about a month ago, when we…"

I'm glad when she trails off.

"But I won't do it, Bella. I'm not like you. I can't be alone all the time and I can't keep staying home all day year in, year out."

Her words are tactless but I don't quite mind; not everyone is like me. Not everyone can work from home. My alone-ness is not a choice, but she's too wrapped up in her crisis to remember that. She's only ever known me this way.

She never knew the other me, the Bella that was one half of a happy whole.

"So what will you do?" I ask cautiously, irrationally terrified of what I think she's implying.

Her eyes are watery and blue.

"Whatever I have to."

* * *

_* Dave Matthews Band #41_


	13. Burning

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization.

* * *

Sophie is still learning to tie her shoelaces, so some mornings are more arduous than others.

I try not to be impatient but my eyes are on the clock above the stove, little red digits glowing like devil's eyes.

"We have to go, Soph. C'mon, let me help."

"Nooo," she whines, starting over.

There's a trio of knocks at the kitchen door. I step over my child's huddled form and answer, somehow unsurprised to see Tanya, looking little better than she did last night.

"Listen, can I take the kids now so you can pick them up later on? I have a … doctor's appointment. This afternoon."

"That's fine." I shrug and glance down toward Sophie, who has triumphed over one shoe but not the other. "Miss Tanya is taking you guys to school, so now you really have to go." She seems pacified by the fact that she gets to ride in Jaime's car for the morning, allowing me access to her ratty little laces.

Tanya can hardly look at me and I wonder if she is on medication, or if maybe she should be. We all have our shares of ups and downs but sometimes she just seems so _weighted_. From the time we met to the present she has become steadily worse and I want to shake her sometimes, make her see what she's got; make her focus all the things for which she should be grateful.

Instead, I kiss Sophie goodbye and shut the door behind her.

Quiet.

* * *

It's a cold, blustery day, and there are patches of melting ice all over the road.

I'm starting to remember what it was like to love winter, the faint and familiar smell of leaves burning, cloudless skies like polished pewter.

Everything is bare and scrubbed clean, new skin.

The car line outside the school meanders forth like a lazy snake as I queue up. Shifting the car into park I wait, dawdling through the titles on my iPod.

Soon children come tumbling out, a visual cacophony of bright sweaters and hats. Sophie and Jaime find me right away and then we're heading back home.

Edward and Tanya's cars are both in their driveway when I park in mine.

My finger is poised above their doorbell when I hear the first yell, an angry, high pitched curse, and I drop my hand in shock, unsure of how to proceed. Inappropriately, I lean my ear closer to the door, my gaze locking with Jaime's, his green eyes bright and curious.

There is a back and forth, Tanya's shrill and Edward's deadly calm; if he is anything like he was in high school he is seconds away from exploding.

"Come on," I say, gripping Jaime's hand tightly. I smile feverishly to chase the concern from his face and lead him back to my kitchen door, where Sophie is frowning and watching and chewing on a fingernail. "I think they need some mommy and daddy time so _we_ are gonna do homework and eat cookies."

Sugar doesn't solve things but it sure makes them better.

Afternoon becomes early evening, the world now leached of daylight. I walk through the house, anxious and annoyed, flicking on light switches.

They should have called by now, or come by. I've had their child for hours.

Before I can convince myself otherwise I pick up the phone and dial. Edward answers, his voice raspy and flat.

"What do you want me to do with Jaime, Edward? It's nearly time for Sophie's bath."

"Shit."

A beep notifies me of an incoming call.

"Hold on, I have another call. Hello?"

"Bella? It's me. Have you cooked yet? Do want me to bring anything?"

"Hey. Garrett. I gave the kids pizza…"

"Kids? Sophie's friends are there?"

"Just Jaime. I'll explain later. Bring Chinese."

"Okay. See you soon."

I click back to Edward. "Hey."

He exhales roughly. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that… things are just… I'll be right over to get him."

I go to get Jaime, who isn't ready to go, and tell Sophie to get ready for her bath. She doesn't want him to go either and by the time I've gotten him to the door Edward is letting himself inside.

"Sorry…. I knocked. It was open."

"Hm. Shouldn't have been. It's okay though."

Edward bends down and whispers something in Jaime's ear.

"Bye, Miss Bella."

"Bye, sweetie." I kiss his cheek and my heart constricts.

Edward waits until his son makes it to the bottom of the stairs to lean closer. "Tanya and I are having some problems."

I wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. "I know."

He looks up at me. I see the crease on his forehead, the little wrinkles by his eyes.

"She tells me everything, Edward."

He scowls, running his hands through his hair. "Why? Why would she tell you things?"

Shrugging, I fold my arms. "Maybe she had no one else to talk to?"

He sighs and looks outside at Jaime, who is dragging the toe of his sneaker through the worn grass.

I have to know.

"Are you guys… expecting?"

He shakes his head. "No. No, _that_ was a false alarm, but… it doesn't matter."

"Why wouldn't it matter?"

He smiles a bitter smile, turning to leave. "Because she's leaving anyway."

* * *

I know now things have been deteriorating for awhile now, rotting from the inside out.

Still, I am stunned by how quickly things fall apart now that the façade is compromised.

Tanya says nothing on the days I take Jaime to school or when she drops Sophie back to me. She doesn't even look at me.

She calls, once.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Bella. It's Tanya."

"Oh… hey. What's up?"

"Um… Edward's probably told you, but I'm taking Jaime back to Juneau. For good. Things just aren't… they aren't… working out."

"But...Edward said you're not pregnant?"

"No, I'm not thank God."

"So..."

"So we want different things, Bella. We have for quite some time."

I'm silent, sort of floored.

She babbles on. "He wouldn't have minded if I was pregnant. Can you believe that? Like he's ever home to see the one he has! I can't do this anymore. This is what it took, I guess..."

I don't have anything nice to say, so I don't say anything at all.

"But I wanted to get the kids together before we left, you know, like for a movie or something… maybe this weekend? We're leaving Tuesday."

My mind is swimming; I can barely keep up. I don't see how abruptly uprooting Jaime from his father, home and school will be a positive thing, but then again, none of this is about him anyway. Tanya has made that quite clear.

Taking a breath, I push my judgment down deep.

"Sure." I sigh. "How about tomorrow?"

"Okay. See you then."

I tell Sophie the news at bedtime.

She cries bitterly.


	14. Boxes

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization. Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer; this plot here belongs to me.

* * *

There are boxes everywhere.

Tanya steps aside to let us in, smiling a weak half smile. "Hey, Bella. Thanks for coming."

"Sure." I usher a reluctant Sophie inside, pressing gently on her back. Her sadness has created a little wall around her, the only defense she has against what she feels is betrayal. It doesn't matter that Jaime's departure is not his decision.

All that matters is he's leaving.

I know just how she feels.

"Jaime!" Tanya calls. Footsteps scamper quickly above us and then down the stairs, pausing midway.

He waves cautiously. "Hi."

"Hi, Jaime," I say, speaking for the both of us. I kneel beside Sophie and put my mouth to her ear. "Go play, and have a great time. You'll see him again, I promise."

She nods and sighs and walks over to the staircase, subdued.

I'm caught off guard when I straighten up and see Tanya's eyes brimming.

"I know this is hard for her. Jaime's been… well, he's been okay, considering. At this point he's looking forward to seeing his cousins and his grandparents but… I don't think he fully gets that we're going to be so far away from his dad." She motions for me to follow her.

As always when I am in her kitchen, I sit at a barstool and she stands across the counter from me, only today she procures white wine, not coffee. "This okay?"

"Oh, yeah," I say, smiling.

Wine's always okay.

"So… how is Edward doing?" I ask, accepting the rather full glass.

"He's all right, I guess. Hasn't been working as much lately so he can spend time with Jaime and help me get ready for the move. I don't know." She shakes her head, blonde wisping around her face. "It's been a long time coming, Bella. I didn't want you to think I was… happy about this. I know how I sounded on the phone yesterday…. I just… I'm relieved. I'm glad to be going back to what's good for me, you know?"

Break ups make me sad, especially when children are involved, and it is difficult for me to be objective.

It's an awkward moment and I stare down into the gold of my glass, watching it reflect the kitchen's lighting.

"You think I'm a selfish bitch," she remarks abruptly.

I snap my head up and look her in the eye; she's never spoken to me like this. My stomach coils in anticipation of an actual disagreement, a marked departure our usual, dishonest politeness.

"I don't know enough about your situation to make calls like that," I say evenly, considering draining my wine. "I hardly know you, Tanya."

It occurs to me that the real reason she asked me over is to explain herself. I know she loves her son – you can't fake that sort of thing – and so Jaime and Sophie's play date is probably a reason too, but not the primary one.

"You don't know what it feels like to be trapped in a marriage."

"And you don't know what it's like to have your husband snatched away from you forever. Edward's not home a lot, but at least he's alive."

Maybe it's insensitive; I've wanted to say it for months.

And I know, I know what Edward did to me years ago was hurtful and stupid but I'm past that. I've had time to see the sort of man he is _now, _the type of father he is, and while I don't know what it's like to be married to him I have a hard time commiserating with Tanya.

In my heart, I know he is a good man, and the part of me that still loves him doesn't like seeing him hurt. Even if he's had it with his wife, he's going to miss his child.

Tanya's put down her glass. "That's true. But the one doesn't discount the other."

"I didn't say it did. Look, do what you need to do. I'm not here to judge you, okay?"

Not outright, at least.

She frowns and drums her fingers along the counter top.

There really isn't much to discuss after that. I finish my wine and ask Tanya if I can just leave Sophie to play for awhile and she agrees.

* * *

The first morning back to school, there is a void in the backseat that I know reflects the one in Sophie's little heart.

It's hard to believe that they were there and now they're gone.

I kiss Sophie at school and promise her sweets and surprises later on, and then return home, stopping at the grocery store on the way.

The Cullen's home is dark and closed up, its driveway empty. Even Edward is gone, having taken time off work to help his family move back to where they think they belong. I don't even want to imagine what he'll be like when he gets back.

I think about what it will be like now that he is unattached. Will we feel closer or even more estranged?

Garrett has a big case and cannot come over in the evening, and in his absence I miss him. With no one next door and no one to watch movies with I fall asleep early, snuggling Sophie in my big bed.

* * *

A week before Valentine's Day I'm making cupcakes for Sophie's class when Edward knocks on the back door.

Wiping my hands on my jeans, I open it up, waving him inside. Now that he's by himself, I usually take him leftovers on the nights he's home. It's an odd in-between sort of place to be, and it feels equal parts natural and awkward.

"Hey Edward."

"Hey Bella. Are you – where's Sophie?"

"In her room, writing out her Valentine's." I laugh a little. "Remember those days?"

"I do," he says, looking around the kitchen.

I sweeten another cupcake with icing and heart sprinkles. "So what's up? You working tonight?"

"No, not tonight. "

When he doesn't continue, I glance up at him. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm cool. I wanted to give Sophie Jaime's new address, in case she wanted to write to him."

"That's great!" I exclaim, taking the paper from Edward with sticky hands. "I'm sure she will. When last did you speak to Jaime? Is Tanya letting him spend the summer here?"

He nods, smiling faintly. "She is. I think… they're doing well. I know _she_ is. Jaime misses –" he pauses, waving his hand around. "This… me… you guys."

"We miss him too," I say, carefully placing the last cupcake back on to its plate. "Do you want one of these? There are two or three extra."

"No I'm okay, thanks. I should get going…"

"Okay." I say absently, staring into my cabinets, wondering how best I can transport the cupcakes tomorrow. When I turn around Edward has moved closer, startling me.

"Hey," I gasp, heart sputtering like a car that won't start.

He says nothing, just touches my hair, running his hand down the length of it.

Part of me wants to push him away but part of me likes his proximity.

When his thumb tickles past the skin on my neck I sway away.

"You should go," I whisper, sagging against the counter.

"Sorry," he says, his voice quiet. "But I think about you."

"Edward, she _just_ left," I say, my insides churning toil and trouble. "You-"

"I thought about you then."

I shake my head. "I would have never done that. Ever."

"Neither would I. And I wouldn't have left her. But she's left me." He leans against the counter opposite me. "I would have stayed. I couldn't do... that to someone…again."

His words relieve me, answering questions I didn't realized I'd had.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Edward. I truly am. You don't deserve this."

"I'm sorry too," he says, looking at the door. "I should go."

"Okay." I sigh, walking him out.

He turns before he leaves, briefly kissing the corner of my mouth the same way Garrett did months ago.

Same kiss, different person.

My body burns.

A week later, his house goes on the market.


	15. Letter

All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization. Twilight is Stephenie Meyer's. This plot here is mine.

* * *

"So where's he going? Seattle?" Leah asks, catching Natalie by the arm as she runs by. She zips the little girl's raincoat up to her chin and then sets her free, giving her a few last moments of play.

I ladle the rest of the chili into two containers, handing one to Leah. "Just across town. There's a place near his parent's house he's had his eye on."

Leah squints at me. "Renting or buying?"

"Buying, I think."

"Why didn't they just move there in the first place?"

"Do you want garlic bread, too?" I ask, holding up the loaf. She nods. "He said because she liked this house better, this street, whatever. For someone born in Alaska she sure has an aversion to the woods…"

"I thought you said she was from Juneau," Leah remarks, adding the bread to the bag I've given her to take home.

I shrug. "So?"

"I think Juneau's pretty city-ish."

Giving Leah a look, I start wiping down the counter top. "You know what I mean."

She grins. "Look at you, all siding with Edward…"

"Mhm." I don't bother to defend myself because she's kidding. And because she's right.

"Nat!" she yells.

"I'll get her," I offer, dropping the sponge into the sink. The girls are running on empty now, over tired and giddy from an entire day spent together, braving the farmer's market with us in the rain and then playing in Sophie's room for hours.

I am grateful for Leah's friendship, how effortless it is and how real and dependable and straight forward she is. Having a daughter my daughter's age helps, too, and we find ourselves spending more and more time together, even when Garrett is at the house.

"Natalie, honey," I say, leaning in doorway. "Time to go."

* * *

March arrives cold and rainy and never lets up.

Edward's house lingers, unsold. Each day I see the real estate sign a little ache of gratitude flits inexplicably through my chest.

Rarely do I see him.

Early one evening, when the air is so heavy it leaves mist on my skin, so cold it leaves goose bumps too, I slip outside to bring the trash to the curbside.

Edward is outside, doing the same, and for a moment the suburban routineness of it all amuses me.

"Hi," he says, securing the lid.

"Hey. Long time no see," I tease, cringing at how flighty I sound, and flirtatious.

"No rest for the weary," he says, his face in shadows because of his hoodie. "I've been working a lot."

I scrunch my hands so they're inside my sleeve, trying not to shiver. "I figured."

He nods, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Alice and Jasper are coming home this weekend."

"You're kidding!" I gasp. "How long will they be in town?"

"Just a few days. They're celebrating their tenth anniversary."

My heart sinks, because that's got to be hard, being happy for the success of your sister's marriage when your own has dissolved.

"Oh," I say softly, folding my arms to ward off the chill. "Well… have her call me when she gets here."

He nods. "I will. You should get inside. It's freezing out."

His eyes trail down the front of me before flickering away.

* * *

Garrett's kisses have always been chaste.

He is closer than a friend but not enough to be more.

I miss physical contact, what it feels like to love and be loved, to be filled, to touch and hold and stroke and come.

I miss it but it's never been casual for me, and I cannot bring myself to be with someone intimately without being emotionally intimate, too.

Garrett's sexy, and his teasing sometimes borders on not-so-innocent, but there's always this tiny thorn in my side, digging deeper when I attempt to let my mind go and just _feel_.

My mother voices the things I try to keep locked inside my head. She fears that Jake's death is still too fresh and then she worries that I'm lonely and holding myself back. She wants me to deal but she wants me to heal. The two times Sophie and I have brought Garrett to dinner she's let me know that he is perfect for me, whether as a friend or more.

My father is the reason I know Garrett at all. He likes him.

But I can tell he doesn't like him _for me._

"Where'd you go?" Garrett asks, his hand warm on my thigh.

"Just zoning out." I rest my head on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

"Are you ever going to let me kiss you?" he asks, making me smile.

I just look at him and nod, inviting him to.

Pulling me closer, he kisses me properly, warm and nice. My stomach flutters but then clenches and I ease away, unnerved.

His eyes drift from my mouth to my eyes. "Thank you," he whispers.

* * *

My mailbox squeals when I open it, its hinges compromised by age and moisture. I reach inside and retrieve the mail, tucking it beneath my arm to keep it from getting wet.

Bills, coupons, a postcard from someone visiting Greece… and an envelope with nothing but my name.

Even after so many years I still recognize his writing from the notes he used to write me in class, the goofy jokes we'd shared as well as his horny ponderings, things that would make me choke and turn red in class as I read them.

Leaving the rest of the mail on the table, I kick off my galoshes and go my room, my heart thudding nervously.

_Bella,_

_Maybe it's not okay for me to think about you the way I do._

_Maybe it's too soon, or maybe I'm too late._

_I see you sometimes, laughing with Sophie in her room_

_or crying outside on the deck._

_I hate that you're alone, it feels worse than my being alone and I wish_

_that we could be alone together._

_I'm sorry you were left behind the way you were, I know_

_you were happy with him. I know now what it's like_

_to not have Jaime nearby, and I can imagine how Sophie_

_feels without her dad._

_But I'm also still sorry for the way I ended things with you, and even though_

_you say you're ok now (and maybe you are) I think about that too. _

_I'm sorry if this is not okay, if this note is wrong or crosses_

_some line, but I had to let you know that you're under my skin and on my mind._

_Maybe I have no right._

_Edward_


	16. Dessert

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Alice clasps my hand across the table, her cheeks flushed from a second glass of Chianti.

Garrett, who's chatting with Jasper, doesn't notice when she sneaks another look at him. "He's so cute," she mouths.

My own face warms and I nod, touching my fingers to the smoothness of my glass.

Dinner is over and we're waiting for dessert; Jasper is an attorney and so is Garrett, giving them plenty to talk about. This is good, because it's been years since I saw Alice, and while we were close for a while in high school and college, we haven't been good at keeping in touch.

There are things I need to ask her, and things she wants to know of me.

"So you've been okay, then?" she asks, for maybe the tenth time since I've seen her.

I offer up a smile, shaking my head. "I'm fine, Alice. Every day is a little better."

She nods, the mirth fading from her eyes. "I wish I'd been here…"

"Don't start," I whisper, squeezing her fingers. "It's fine."

The waitress brings us slices of chocolate cake, and my mouth waters even though I'm sort of full.

"I'm just... happy for you. That you can, you know. See someone else… and be okay…" Alice mumbles quietly, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin. She's usually a lot more articulate than this, but loss has a way of robbing people of their polished words.

This time I'm the one casting surreptitious glances to my left before leaning toward Alice. "It's going to be awhile, but, he's patient. So far."

"I can tell. Anyway, I'm glad we got to do this, glad I got to meet him. You know Edward wanted to come tonight?" She rolls her eyes. "I told him you'd be on a date; he'd be a fifth wheel."

My stomach knots tight and cold, a mossy rock at the bottom of the sea. "Oh."

"I guess he's feeling all chummy with you these days…you've been so supportive to him during this whole…" She stares down into her plate. "Tanya thing."

"You don't like her?"

"I did at first. But things have been downhill for awhile. I knew this was coming. "

Alice and Edward were very close a long time ago, so it shouldn't surprise me that they still are, that he probably confides in her. It shouldn't surprise me but it does.

All of it does.

Edward – and anything having to do with him – has been back on my radar for less than a year.

The fact that he is in my life, in any capacity, surprises me.

"She complained that he was never around to anyone that would listen, but when he tried to bring her and Jaime to family things, she'd want to stay home." Alice shakes her head, frowning. "Anyway, whatever. My point was that you've been a good friend to him lately so...thanks." She smiles, almost shyly.

Her words pierce me. For a moment I feel as if I've been deceitful to myself and everyone else, as if Edward's friendship is not the only thing I think about when I think of him. Have my actions truly been so selfless?

"Was it so awkward?" Alice asks, either not noticing my reticence or ignoring it. "When they moved in right next door?"

"Yes."

"Ugh. I mean, I know you're so over it, but that would've made me crazy."

She's licking the icing off her fork. I take a bite, grateful for distraction.

"It almost did," I sigh.

Now she is the silent one and I look up, meeting her curious gaze.

"Do you…" she narrows her eyes and looks at the boys, who are still carrying on, their desserts untouched. "Do you still have feelings?" She hardly utters the last word as if it is some dirty thing.

I start shoveling cake into my mouth, my face burning as I consider Edward's note.

_Maybe I have no right._

"That's why he wanted to come, probably," she says, horrified. "That's the last thing either of you need, Bella. Stick to him," she jerks her thumb in Garrett's direction. "He's cute and new and he likes you-"

"Thanks, I got it."

"Bella," she says, impatient.

I exhale loudly and Garret looks over, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm going to use the restroom."

Of course, Alice follows me.

She tugs my arm as soon as we're behind closed doors."Bella!"

"I get what you're saying, Alice, it's fine. Don't bother. No one knows better than me how ill-suited Edward and I probably are for each other," I say, wishing desperately that wasn't true. "But can I ask just one thing?"

She nods, her hand slipping away from me.

"Did he…ever come back? For me? Before he got married?"

"Actually, yeah. I think he did. I wasn't here then."

"When was it? Do you know?"

She shakes her head. "It was a while ago… I don't know – probably before med school. He didn't come home for awhile after that."

"But why'd he come back at all? What – did he think I'd be waiting around for him?"

"He thought you guys could try again." She walks over to the mirror and begins fixing her hair. "Guess he was wrong."

* * *

My parents have Sophie for the night.

Garrett wants to come inside but I want to be alone with my thoughts. Blaming the wine I had at dinner, I beg off, asking if we can see other tomorrow.

He's disappointed when he leaves, and I get the feeling his patience will not last forever.

And it shouldn't.

I want to see Edward, to question him about his incendiary little note. It's been days now, and he's always out, working or at his parent's, I don't know.

Avoiding me.

But maybe he isn't, because that would be…

Headlights sweep across my windows and like teenage girl I rush to check and see if it's him, and it is.

I meet him as he trudges to his front door, looking worn down and exhausted.

"Bella? _What_ are you doing? It's the middle of the night!"

"You said you came back for me once. Why? Why would you do that when it had already been so long?"

He stares dumbly back, his shoulders slumped and posture weary.

"Why'd you leave me that note?" My words explode in little white puffs as my breath meets the cold night air.

He unlocks the door and gestures for me to follow him inside.

It feels different being inside with him and not Tanya.

We walk through the dark to the kitchen, where he flicks on the lights and peels off his gloves, tossing them aside.

"I'm tired of acting like I don't care," he says. "Knowing you're right there, right next door…and I can't even talk to you…"

"You do talk to me."

"Not the way I want to," he says pointedly. "Anyway, I know it's the worst time…but I…I wanted to tell you."

My heart skips a beat. "What do you want me to say?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "I don't know. You don't have to say anything."

"You're not even divorced."

He nods, leaning against the wall. "It'll be final in mid-May."

We're quiet awhile.

"I have to be up early," he says, coming closer, like he did the day in my kitchen. "Let me walk you back."

"I'm okay." I start to go but he grabs my hand, and I feel it all the way up my arm, burning through my veins.

"Do you feel that way? Could you ever… again?" he asks, his eyes darting back and forth between mine.

Feeling it and telling him are two completely different animals.

"I don't know anything right now, " I say, but I look at his mouth.

He drops my hand, coming closer. "That's not a no."

I stay still, barely breathing, and then I shake my head.

We shouldn't be here, like this in this house. It feels like I am betraying something, someone, but then he kisses me, his mouth fitting mine like it's been no time at all, and it's me who is betrayed, by my own feelings, by the things I crave.

* * *

_i have the prettiest banner now, made by the sweet famouslyso ..._

_http://s47(dot)photobucket(dot)com/albums/f161/roglows/?action=view¤t;=wowy(dot)png _

_if that doesn't work try: /r/i56wj7/5 _

_i love it something terrible..._


	17. Clarity

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Half thoughts blaze though my brain like little comets, burning out before they hit the ground.

My hands are glued to my sides but my mouth moves with his because honestly… undeniably… it feels _so good_ to let him kiss me and to kiss him back.

His fingers curl around my arms and he yanks me closer the way they do in old black and white movies.

In the middle of all this feeling and wanting I realize I am relieved. Whatever this thing between Edward and I is, this pressure that's been building beneath the surface, it's reached its peak and gone over the other side.

In fact, everything's gone, nothing but him right now, asking without words if he can take his kiss deeper and me without words saying yes.

He is slow and deep and very thorough, making me remember backseat necking and fooling around in the woods. Maybe I should be thinking about how we really shouldn't be doing this, but that isn't true.

Still, I peel his fingers off and push him gently away, my heart drumming heavy beats.

He takes another step back on his own. "Is this impossible?"

"I don't know." But that isn't true, either. "Not impossible. But not now, either. You're too…"

"You think I'll –"

"Impulsive. You just… do things. And I used to be that way, but I can't be anymore. Things have happened to me, Edward, things bigger and beyond you. And I know it's not your fault, I know there's nothing you can do but, my heart hurts…all the time."

It's sort of surreal looking into the eyes of someone I used to be with, someone I was in love with. I know what he feels like when he's inside me, what he sounds like when he comes, or laughs, or cries. I remember with clarity the day he asked me out, and also the day he let me go.

And maybe that's why it feels right.

He wraps his arms around me and hugs me hard.

He still smells the same.

* * *

At my door, I remain half way in and half way out, keeping him at arm's length.

"I think we've found a buyer," he says. "I'm meeting with my real estate agent Monday."

"Oh… that's good," I say, and mean it. If this house means so little to him he should sell it, move someplace that feels like a home.

"And I'm taking on a full time position at the hospital here – so, no more Seattle as of next week," he adds, looking away.

It's a little late at night for chit chat. "Why are you telling me this?"

I've called him out, and we both know it.

My words tumble out, demanding and slightly more bitter than I intend. "What exactly do you want from me? Is it… companionship or just, am I a familiar face?"

His eyes are on his feet. "I want whatever you'll give me. I –"

"Is it convenience? Like, we have history so we can skip right past the getting to know you part?"

There's pain in his eyes when he looks at me. "I know you don't think that."

Slowly, I shake my head. "You know Alice freaked out when she realized that you and I might still have feelings."

"I know," he says. "She thinks we'll hurt each other."

"Maybe we would."

_What am I doing?_

I hate the back and forth, even though I am the one doing it. I wish we could just fast forward past all the confused emotions and tangled up words, but we can't.

"When I look at you, I see what we could have. I think about what it was like being with you. I know it was a long time ago and we're not the same, but I still feel it with you." He shifts away and the streetlights illuminate his face, the profile of his mouth. "I'm not saying I regret the past few years, because they gave me Jaime, but I think I belong with you. "

His words trigger the deep thaw inside of me.

If I'd been told a year ago, that Edward would come back into my life and ask me to try again, I'd have thought it insanity.

And what's even crazier is that I understand how he feels, because in my heart I yearn for the things he does. My mind, however, is not so easily romanced.

"This is too much right now, you know that, right?" I pin my hands behind my back so I don't give in to the urge to touch.

He seems to examine every inch of my face, finally ending on my eyes. "Yes."

"Then call me in May, Edward. Not before. If we still feel the same way, then… we can figure this out."

He traces my cheek with his fingertips and leaves.

Watching him go is hard and I shut the door before he turns around and sees me crying.

* * *

Sophie and I are watching TV when the phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I answer anyway.

"Hello?"

"Bella? Hey… it's Alice."

After making sure we're updated on phone numbers and email addresses she gets to the meat of the matter, the real reason why she's called.

"So, Edward told me you guys talked the other night."

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. "Awesome."

"I… I shouldn't have said that at dinner. I just… it really caught me off guard. It's been so long, and when he started talking about you like that I told him he was being inappropriate, but then you pretty much said the same thing and I don't know… it's so soon. For both of you, you know? I know it's none of my business and –"

"No, it is soon. You're right."

"I worry about him. I can't help it. Now you got me worrying about you."

"Well, you can relax. We're going to… give it time."

It's hard to quantify exactly what I hope to achieve by not seeing Edward for awhile, but it feels like the right thing to do, if for no other reason than to wait for the dust to settle.

"Yeah," she sighs. "He told me."

"Damn, is there anything he doesn't tell you?"

"Not lately, no," she laughs. "Anyway, we're about to head out now but I …. I just wanted you to know I'm not like, against the idea or anything. All right?"

"Well… thanks. And let's keep in touch this time, okay?"

Maybe it shouldn't matter, but her phone call makes lightens my load some.

I need all the support I can get. Because half the time, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore.

* * *

_ thank you for all of the thoughtful, and usually very candid, reviews. usually i respond to all reviews, but updating at this rate tends to hinder that. still, i love corresponding with you guys, so i'll probably end up doing replies every few chapters. because seriously, i appreciate every one. xoxoxo_


	18. Paint

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization. Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. This plot here belongs to me._

* * *

Usually the end of the school year is cause for celebration. I've always equated the onset of Sophie's freedom with mine; lazy, long days of sleeping in and drifting, routine-less-ness. Even if I spend all waking hours doing a lot of nothing, I still have the night to write.

This year is different.

By the time this summer comes, I'll know where I stand with Edward and where he stands with me. If we both say yes, then summer could be magic. If we say no, it could be tainted with the same uncertainty and loneliness I've been dealing with for the past few years.

But by the way my thoughts are going, and how preoccupied with him I am, it's like I've already made my decision and that unnerves me. It gives him the upper hand, whether he knows it or not.

Because if nothing changes I already know what will happen in May: I'll surrender.

I probably already have.

* * *

Another reason I need space from the runaway train that is _feelings for Edward_ is Garrett.

Because it is spring, Sophie has decided her room needs new colors. I'm not the handy type… I fix what I must when I can but not much else… and so when Garrett insists on helping us paint, I gratefully let him.

Fate. I'm always thinking about fate, and how cruel it can be. How it offers an old love and a new possibility in the same breath, dangles them in front of me and whispers _choose._

I owe it to myself to see if how I feel about him could ever change, could ever grow. He's certainly the right one, if there was going to be any one at all. The way he talks, how his eyes crinkle when he laughs, his hands and how they linger… on me.

I guess that's it – maybe I'm distracted but I'm also attracted.

On a Saturday the incessant rain sulks reluctantly away like a toddler to its corner, leaving town waterlogged and mildly sunny. After picking out a several colors at the hardware store we return and get to work moving and covering the things in Sophie's room.

I stay busy, painting and keeping us all hydrated and fed, and when Sophie begins to act overtired and grumpy I call my mother, asking her to get her granddaughter so I can get this thing done.

My arms are tired and there's an ache between my shoulder blades but I want desperately to finish today, and I tell Garrett this when he suggests we leave it for later. He's sweaty now, his white t-shirt damp and clinging. I force myself to concentrate on paint.

There's an anxious knot in the pit of my stomach because I know my time with him is fast approaching an ultimatum. Either I'll jump in all the way, shutting the door on …everyone else – or I'll withdraw and be alone for a little or a long while.

He clears his throat and laughs and I realize my eyes are back on him and they've been there for God-knows-how long.

"What's up?"

"Nothing. Just thinking." I dip my paintbrush and return to the task with vigor, glad we're nearly done.

* * *

"Should I just let her spend the night?" I wonder aloud, eyeing the clock in the kitchen.

Garrett shrugs, swiping his keys off the counter "It's up to you. I'm gonna go grab a few things from the store, you need anything?"

"I'll come with you, just give me a minute."

He nods, stepping outside, and I call my parent's, relieved when I find out that Sophie's already asleep and that my father will bring her home some time tomorrow.

Grocery shopping with someone is somewhat domestic. I'm very aware of how Garrett stays close, reaching around me to grab things, directing me with a touch of his hand. He can be silly sometimes – it's one of the things Sophie likes about him – his sly teasing and contagious laughter.

Few people seem so comfortable in their own skin, and I think maybe that's why I feel safe with him.

Thing is, safe isn't always enough.

Back at the house the weather's good so we eat out on the deck, drinking beer and talking late into the night. My shoulders still hurt and he offers to massage them and because I'm tipsy I allow myself to be pulled inside and sat on the couch.

He sits behind me, his legs snug around me, and starts to work my muscles in earnest, easing and soothing out the kinks.

The whole scenario reminds me of something a highschool boy would do to get closer to the girl he wants to screw.

"What?" he asks, feeling me shake. "Are you – " he leans down, peering at my face " – laughing?"

Covering my face, I double over, unable to hold it in any longer. I know I'm being ridiculous, but I'm a little drunk and it feels good to crack up.

After a second he starts to laugh a little too. "_What_ is so funny?"

Eventually, when I've calmed down, I wipe my eyes and glance back at him. He's sitting back against the cushions, watching me in amusement.

"So, no more beer for you."

"No. And… it just… it reminded me of something a guy would do to like… you know… be all close. You know what I mean?"

He nods and scoots closer, tugging me back so I'm right between his legs, closer than before. "Like if I was rubbing your shoulders and I just kind of…" he puts his lips between my neck and my shoulders and kisses me there. Twice.

"Or..." he moves to the other side and does it again, moving higher this time.

My stomach flutters.

The recognizable, long-missed sensation of desire blooms inside and I feel myself loosening, my body leaning back into his as if I'm someone else.

He starts to suck on my neck and my eyes pop open as I sit up. "Whoa," I breathe.

"Sorry," he says, but he turns my face to his and kisses me.

I want to let him, so badly, but there's a war going on inside and not everyone's on the same side.

He feels when I disconnect and he pulls away, letting go of me as he stands up. I feel the loss and know something has shifted between us, but I don't know what to do about it.

Without a word he flicks on the TV and sits on the floor, near me but not next to me.

* * *

When I wake up later, Garrett is asleep; his head back on the couch, his legs sprawled out in front of him on the floor.

I feel around for the remote and click the TV off before turning over and going back to sleep.

The next time I wake up it is in the dusky blue light of very early morning.

Garrett is in the same spot but he is awake now too, scratching his fingers sleepily through his hair.

"Did you know," he begins, his voice quiet and low, "that you talk in your sleep?"

Struggling through the hazy fog of semi-consciousness, I turn on to my side, closing my eyes again. "I think so. I mean, yeah... Jake used to tease me."

He doesn't say anything else for a while and I feel myself slipping back into a comfy sleep.

"Bella?"

"Mm?"

"Who's Edward?"

Now I'm awake. Pushing up onto an elbow, I look over at him, but he's still got his back to me.

"He's… someone I used to be with. A long time ago."

"Hmm," says Garrett, nodding. He sits still for a moment and then suddenly gets to his feet, turning to gaze down at me.

The vibe between us is all wrong; it's never felt this tense and I sit up all the way, smoothing my hair down apprehensively.

"You say his name when you sleep."

"Oh." My heart sinks further. I don't know what to say to that.

"When we went away for New Year's, and you and Sophie fell asleep in the car on the way back… that was the first time." He looks around the room and goes for his shoes, slipping them silently on to his feet. "This was the second."

I'd known this moment was coming, but selfishly I'd thought it would be on my terms. Now that it's here, and happening like this, the tentative feelings I _do _have for Garrett come flooding in.

I know what he's saying by asking me these questions but I need to know anyway.

"What did I say?"

"You called for him and asked him not to leave you," he says, picking his phone up off the coffee table.

"Garrett."

"I can't compete with all these ghosts, Bella. I'm sorry."

His footsteps echo hollowly on the wood floors. He doesn't walk heavy or slam the door when he goes, and when his car starts and leaves it sounds just like it always does, like he's going to come back in a little while.

I go upstairs with a stomach sour from anxiety and regret, peeling off my jeans before getting into bed.

Alone again, and maybe that's better even though it doesn't feel that way right now.


	19. May

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization. Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer. This plot here belongs to me._

* * *

I'm not sure what Sophie thought of Garrett when he was around all the time.

She certainly seemed to like him well enough; she laughed at his jokes and accepted his help if she needed it, letting him get things she couldn't reach or tie her ever-straggling shoelaces.

But she never really _asked _about him and after he leaves for good it's two weeks before she even brings him up.

And I know then; I was right to never let him sleep over, except for the night I talked in my sleep, and it was good I didn't kiss him – not in front of Sophie, not at all. She probably sees Garrett the same way she sees Leah; as a friend of mine.

Which he was. And because he wanted more, probably isn't anymore.

Leah's seeing someone now, a hotshot promoter type she met through the friend of a friend in Seattle. He's a little loud but so is Leah, a little flashy but she gets a kick out of it. It's the first time I've seen her date seriously since the demise of her marriage.

Seeing her flushed and excited and maybe in love is reassuring. She did the alone thing, she paid her dues. It took some time, but she's once again happy with someone.

I'm glad to babysit Natalie, which is happening more these days. Sophie's just glad to have another best friend. If the temporal nature of her life's cast of characters bothers her, she doesn't show it.

Maybe she's just strong, strong like the oak out in the backyard; stubborn, wild and rooted.

* * *

Late one afternoon, a crew of pickup trucks and cars crowds into Edward's yard and driveway. I watch from the kitchen windows as he and his friends, some of whom I recognize, carry boxes and furniture out of the house and into their vehicles.

I want to go over there, to help somehow, to acknowledge that he is leaving. A flicker of panic smolders through me; I didn't think the house would sell so quickly.

Or maybe it hasn't actually sold, but he's ready to get the hell out anyway.

They come and go well into evening, and then they're all gone for good. Setting a plate in front of Sophie, I glance out window as I've been doing, pulling the curtain aside to see.

Edward closes the door to his car and wipes his hands on his jeans.

Maybe it's creepy I'm watching like this. It makes me wonder how often he watched me, and if he did it more than his letter once implied.

And maybe he knows my eyes have been on him all this time, because right before he gets in to the driver's seat he looks at my house, at my door, at me.

My breath catches as I stare, unsure if he can actually see me.

_Say good bye. Come and say good bye._

Hesitantly, he gets into his car and then he's gone.

* * *

On the first of May a letter arrives from Alaska, the addresses penned in neat, slanted cursive, the envelope embellished with crayons and color.

"Sophie, you got a letter," I say, dropping it next to her plate of apples and peanut butter.

"It's from Jaime!" she gasps, tearing into the letter.

She's so excited, so pleased, it warms me from the inside out.

"So what did he say?" I ask after a couple of minutes.

"He's coming soon, in," she pauses, counting on her fingers, "in sixteen days."

"Awesome. We'll have to set something up."

She scoops a slice of apple through the peanut butter. "Can he sleep over? With me and Nat?"

"Sure."

"Can he-"

"Soph," I laugh. "We'll figure it out when he gets here. Finish up so you can do your homework."

She grumbles, but she she's too excited to really mind. I'm glad the friendship she and Jaime had will have a chance to survive.

I wonder what Tanya's doing, if she is able to think about seeing other people, or if she's simply trying to adjust to single life. I wonder if she misses Edward at all, if she longs for him when she's alone at night, or if her memories are of a more nostalgic kind.

Or perhaps she isn't any of those things at all. For all I know she's relieved not only to be back home, but to be away from him.

Still, I don't look forward to her reaction if Edward and I do end up together. She'll think the worst and frankly, I won't blame her.

* * *

My mother pours us each a glass of iced tea before joining me at her kitchen table.

Leah's birthday is the second week of June, and I want to do something a special for her. She'd never let me do it if she knew, so I have to do it behind her back.

In her element now, Renee is doodling ideas for decorations and themes and fancy cakes, while I stare blindly at the paper, my mind elsewhere.

"How's Garrett?"

It takes me a second, but I get there. "Garrett?"

She quirks an eyebrow.

"We don't… I haven't seen him in a while," I admit, stirring my straw in circles.

"Oh? I thought he was nice."

"He _is_ nice. He got tired of waiting for me to get my act together. Can't say I blame him."

She frowns, averting her eyes back to the table.

Somewhere in the house, my father laughs uproariously while Sophie screeches at him to "stop it, Pop!"

"There is someone though," I say, quiet and cautious.

The frown disappears, and she looks back at me. "Do we know him?"

"Edward."

"Edward Cullen?"

I nod, take a sip of tea.

She stares blankly at me. "Isn't he married?"

My heart squeezes; _this_ is why I can't talk about this. "His wife left him. Anyway, nothing's going on right now. "

"But you're thinking about it," she prompts.

I shrug lamely, feeling like a kid under my mother's watchful eye.

"How did this happen?"

"It's been happening, I don't know. I guess… we never really… you know." I force myself to look at her, knowing how flaky this must sound. "Got over each other."

"Have you been in touch ever since…?"

"No! Mom, no. It's not like that. Before he moved back, I hadn't seen him in like, ten years. This is all really recent."

"I see."

But she doesn't.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, wanting so desperately for her to see it through my eyes. "There's something between us and I'm tired of fighting. Fighting to be happy, to be enough for Sophie, of pretending I don't care about Edward. I know it's an odd situation. I know. Just... trust me on this."

"If it makes you happy, maybe it's all right." She squeezes my fingers once and lets go.

I'm so tired of maybe.

Busyness becomes my ally and I thrive in it.

Several articles I've been working on are due and the weeks hurry by in a flurry of deadlines and end of the school year activities for Sophie.

Even as I try not to assign too much meaning to the passing of time, when May starts running out of days I can't help but speculate about Edward almost constantly.

I'm seventeen all over again, insecure and wondering _does he like me?_

And sometimes I hate it, the uncertainty, the not knowing where he is or what he's doing or if he's thinking about me like I'm thinking about him. It's like I went and fully committed to this thing before I even realized what I was doing. I'm almost… depending on it now.

To make matters worse Sophie starts questioning me about Jaime, wanting to know when he'll be back. She spends so much of her free time with Natalie that I'd hoped she would overlook Jaime's absence but no such luck.

I imagine how awkward it could be, with him and me meeting only to coordinate play dates and sleepovers and nothing more.

But then the postcard comes, slightly tattered from travel and postmarked in Disneyland.

_Bella,_

_Took J on a much needed vacation._

_See you soon?_

_I miss you, more than you know._

_Edward_


	20. Open

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Sophie's been asking about the trampoline again.

We were smarter this time, buying a cover for it to protect it from the elements. Sunny days have started intercepting the rainy ones more and more lately, and I know soon I'll be able to take that cover off.

Not yet, though.

I tell her we'll do it when Jaime comes home. Maybe that's cruel of me, to tangle my hopes with hers, but she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she's playing the waiting game herself, having gotten her own postcard from Disneyland.

Her last week of school is the first week of June.

I'm trying hard to complete the next chapter of my manuscript when the phone rings. My eyelids prickle like they're sprinkled with sand; I've been working all morning, exhausted because I stayed up too late the night before, writing.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Edward. We're home… got in last night."

My heart squeezes almost painfully.

"Oh, how was it?" My voice is bright, almost glaringly.

"It was great, actually, Jaime's first time at Disney. And, you know, I haven't been there since I was a kid, so…"

"I'm glad you went. Jaime must've been so excited."

"Yeah, he was. How's things? How's Sophie?"

"She's good. Only two more days of school. She can't wait to see Jaime, she's been counting the days. We um, she thought he would be here sooner," I say, twisting the phone cord around my fingers tight until their tips turn white.

"I know, sorry about that. He would've been back sooner, but, you know. California was a surprise for him." Edward clears his throat. "He's been asking about her though, since we got in. He misses her."

It feels like we're not talking about our kids anymore.

"When can we get together?" he asks.

"Whenever," I say quickly. "Do you guys want to come over tonight, maybe? For dinner?"

"Or the two of you could come over here. You haven't been to the new house," he offers.

"What time?"

The tone of our conversation is quite different than the last one we had, like the tension has drained, the unanswered questions dissolved. My uncertainties have a ghost-like quality and I suddenly don't know if they really exist.

All I want is to see him.

Telling Sophie of our plans for later is not unlike throwing a match into gasoline. She's effervescent with anticipation and questions, wanting to know if Jaime brought her anything from Disney – I don't know – and if Natalie can come too – not this time, babe.

I'm nervous getting ready. I don't want to look like I'm dressing up for him, but I don't want to look like I don't care. Because I do care. I want him look at me the way he did eleven years ago and the way he looked at me two months ago. I want him to want me the way I want him.

My words float back to me, the things I practically spat at him right before I asked him not to call me for awhile. I'd wanted to know then if his interest in me was connected to our past, if my value lay in the fact that I was familiar. Is that what I'm doing now?

Am I the selfish one, wanting him simply because I know him and I know what he's capable of? Because in the end, there's no room for surprise; he's already done the worst he can do. In that regard, he's the safest bet.

But I already know safe doesn't mean a thing.

* * *

Edward's new home is one story instead of two, with a deck that wraps around the entire thing. It is on a cozy, tree lined street like mine, but unlike mine it's really big and so are the other houses around it.

I pull up beside Edward's car, not bothering to help Sophie because she's already let herself out of her seatbelt and is clamoring up front to get out my door.

Grabbing the bottle of wine I brought for dinner, it occurs to me that while I want something to happen with Edward I'm also very apprehensive about it. If he doesn't want to go forward with me, I'll be disappointed and if he does I'll be nervous.

Either way I need to just get it over and done with.

He answers the door almost right away and I know he's been waiting. His eyes are intent when they lock with mine, making me feel like we're touching. I hand him the wine and he lets us inside, and even when Sophie jostles me in her haste to see Jaime, we maintain eye contact. We're in the same place and I am relieved.

"Hi," he says finally, kissing my cheek.

"Hi… I'm glad you're back," I say, needing him to know.

He grins so big it makes my stomach flip. "I'm glad to be back."

It's a lovely house, full of windows and skylights letting in sky and trees. He's got the kids set up in Jaime's room, a pizza picnic on the floor complete with pillows and movies and milkshakes.

"Wow," I laugh. "Seriously?"

"I didn't want them to need anything." He shrugs, reaching a little hesitantly for me. His hand lingers on my back and he steers me out of the room, where Sophie and Jaime are already absorbed. "I figured if you were agreeing to come over you'd want to…talk. About things."

"About …this," I say, motioning between him and me.

He doesn't reply, just leaves me at the counter in the kitchen while he opens the wine and pours us each a glass.

"So did you? Want to talk, I mean?"

I accept the glass he offers and take a small sip before setting it down, trying to sort my thoughts so I can say what I need to.

"I've thought a lot since that night. I've thought a lot _about_ that night … and I realize I don't like being away from you. I don't know if seeing you is a good idea or not, but I know how I feel. I feel like I should be with you, too."

There. It's blown wide open.

"I feel like I still know you, Bella, like I've always known you. You say we've changed, and maybe we have, but you're still the same person you were. This … thing between us…not everyone has that. I haven't always felt that with, with other people." Frowning, he looks down, like he's flustered. "I don't want this to be about what happened before. I know I don't have control over that, because it did happen, but you need to know how I'm choosing to see this."

This feels like negotiating a contract, where we both lay down our conditions before signing ourselves over.

I like it.

"Okay." My heart thumps rapidly, and for a second I panic _what have I done _but then Edward comes over and takes me in his arms and holds me, his chin resting on top of my head.

"I want to make it good for you," he says, and I believe him. I believe that he wants to, and I believe that he will.

Later, when the children are asleep and I'm not too far from it myself, I battle with what I want and what is right. Staying the night is not an option, not yet, but with boundaries as nebulous as ours I don't even know if I should be kissing him just yet.

The movie is done, the credits have rolled, and yet here we sit, silent in the half-light, dappled in the screen's dim flicker. With great effort, I sit up, yawning.

"I should go, it's late."

"I don't want you to go."

I look at him, and his face calls to me, his hair, his everything. I want to smell the skin on his neck and hurt myself on his stubble and mess up his hair. "Which is why I need to go. Sophie's gonna wonder why I had a sleepover."

That makes him smile and he stands, hauling me up as he does. He leans down and kisses me very slowly, kisses my mouth open and then lets his tongue kiss my tongue. It's a different sort of kiss, a beginning kiss. I feel it between my legs and in the shivery places; my neck, my nipples, my ears.

I kiss him back, warm and wanting.


	21. Tree

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

I nearly pass the turn off, driving Sophie to school on her last day.

Muttering mild curses I ease the car into the car line at Fork's Elementary, kissing my baby before she jumps out of the car and toward the building, backpack flapping empty on her back.

I touch my lips and think of him. The songs I play all sound like him. The empty place inside my chest and the wet one between my thighs both belong to him.

Jaime spends time with his grandma Esme while his father is at work. I suggest, when Edward asks, that he make sure it's okay with Tanya before I babysit. I still don't know if she knows and if she does, what she thinks. I'm prepared for her distrust and dislike because I think maybe I'd feel that way too.

My father still sees Garrett sometimes when he goes to Port Angeles, usually when he has to visit the courthouse for something work related. I asked Charlie once how Garrett was doing and he just said "fine" and changed the subject. I wonder how he feels about it, and if my mother told him about Edward.

Sometimes I feel like my life is not my own, always subject to display. Small towns are great when they're good but when they're bad they're awful and soon enough everyone will know _Edward and Bella are back together after all this time, and isn't it the strangest thing?_

But they're not with me at night when I'm tempted to wake my daughter up just so I don't have to feel so alone. And maybe they cried with me at Jake's funeral. And they wave to me in the store and stop to let me out into traffic and smile at me the Sundays I manage to make it to church but they can't be there all the time, not like I need them to be.

Not like Edward can.

And so it doesn't matter.

* * *

Two days pass and I don't see him but he texts me all the time. Going into surgery and just coming out, eating and waiting and driving home.

I am reading my email, giddy about the acceptance of my manuscript by a small publishing house in Seattle when a knock sounds at the door downstairs.

Having a feeling it's _him_ I hurry downstairs. I feel the way I did back when things were new and in a way, they are.

"Hi," I say, smiling when I open the door.

"Hey." He comes in and surrounds me in a hug, no longer tentative. "I missed you."

His words are like warm water.

"I missed you, too."

We walk through the kitchen and down the hall, connected by our hands.

"So, the story I was working on for the past three years just got picked up by a publisher."

"You're kidding! This just happened?"

"Yeah." I can't stop smiling. "I got a letter in the mail, and then an email… I have a meeting next week."

"Congratulations," he says, tickling his thumb over my palm.

"Thanks," I sigh, nodding.

We stop at the base of the stairs and he looks around, toward the living room. "Where's Sophie?"

"With Leah and Nat.. did you just get off work?"

"I got off this morning and went home to sleep for awhile. I wanted to see what you were doing later."

"You could've just called." I bite back a smile, rusty at playing coy.

Suddenly he looks sly, coming toward me. I start backing up the steps, and he hooks a finger through my belt loop. "My mom wanted to know if you and Sophie wanted to come for dinner. She's making chili."

"What did you tell her?"

"The truth." He gazes up at me. "She understands."

"That's good… I think my parents are little weirded out."

"It's a weird situation," he laughs a little, shrugging.

"I guess…"

"So will you come then? With Sophie?" He ascends a step and I turn, jogging the rest of the way upstairs, listening for the footfalls when he follows me.

"Okay," I call back, returning to my bedroom so I can shut down the computer. "I have to go and get Sophie now anyway."

When I straighten up from my desk he is standing just a few feet away, watching me. The muscles in my stomach flutter deep.

I want him.

But I can't just yet.

Not so soon. Not in that bed.

* * *

Sophie cajoles us into including Natalie.

Three can be a sticky number when it comes to kids, so I'm hoping that the fact Jaime is a boy creates some sort of leverage. I don't want any one feeling left out…it might be a fact of life but I don't have to like it.

Luckily, they're fine. Carlisle and Edward take them into the pool while I sit in the kitchen with Esme. Back when Edward and I were together the first time around, I'd sit in this very room with her, chatting.

She hasn't changed much. She is still gracious and so pretty and nice to me. We can never broach the topic, the proverbial elephant in the room, but I trust Edward and he trusts his parents. If they wanted my daughter and I to come over for dinner perhaps that is their way of letting me know they're okay with things.

After dinner, Edward asks me to go for a walk down by the creek behind his parent's house. I feel a little bad leaving his parents with two feisty little girls in addition to Jaime, even for just a while, but Esme simply plies them with more ice cream and tells me to _shush_.

Edward takes my hand and I tangle our fingers, my heart still beating a little funny at his nearness. There was a light rain earlier and my flip flops sink a little in the damp dirt as we make our way further into the barely lit green, following the hushed gurgle of the creek.

There is a tall tree, its trunk wide and rough and he leans me against it, kissing me right away, smelling of chlorine and vanilla ice cream and probably summer. He holds my cheeks between his hands like he's afraid I might move and I slide my hands around his waist and under his shirt, pulling him closer so our bodies meet up part for part.

He leaves my lips for my neck… it's been too long since I felt that feeling. I'm hot and liquid inside, almost woozy with wanting. Being alone with Edward is like brand new virginity, an exercise in restraint.

He makes it hard to go slow.

"I want you," I hear myself say. "But…soon."

"Every time I see you I'm going to want to kiss you," he says, kissing me again, and then his tongue is playing inside my mouth.

It's actually hard to remember what it was like making out with him a long time ago. I'm sure we're better kissers now. He knows what he's doing and he does it well. But more than that, it's the way he makes me feel. It's intense and a little scary because I feel so much so fast.

But it's also comforting and good because it's him, it's Edward and I know him. I always have. He makes me feel like it's okay to let myself get lost in this, because he'll be in it with me.

Love.


	22. Soothes

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

"If we're going to go, then let me buy the tickets. I want to make sure we're sitting together."

Leah's urgency makes me smile, and because she knows me, she sighs. "Are you laughing at me, Bella?"

"Not yet," I say, loving her. Glancing at the little calendar on my desk, I look for the dates she's mentioned. "I think I prefer Friday."

"Me too. Good."

"All right, buy them. Let me know how much – "

"It's fine, it's nothing. You're always watching Nat these days…"

"So what? Sophie loves it." And it's true, Sophie does love it.

But Leah feels guilty sometimes, going out and leaving her child with me. I remind her that she didn't go out for years and years, not even when she and Sam were still together, but she doesn't hear me.

I understand. I never feel like I am enough for Sophie, never _really_ know if what I'm doing is best or even better. Even now, she's downstairs, waiting to go swimming, and all I can think about is going to a concert with my best friend and whether or not I'm going to give it up to my maybe-boyfriend this week.

God help me, I've regressed.

"Okay, I just did it. No backing out now!"

"I'm not going to," I promise. "Anyway, I have to go. Soph's been begging to go swimming all day."

We disconnect. I am pulling a pair of shorts over my swimsuit when the phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi… Bella?"

My heart stops, because it isn't the warm honey tease of Leah's voice or the smooth quiet ache of Edward's.

"Tanya, hey. How are you?"

"Fine thanks. So, I got an interesting phone call from Edward earlier."

It's as if something is squeezing itself around my heart, I'm so suddenly-nervous. Remaining silent, I wait for her to continue.

"He asked if it was okay for you to babysit Jamie sometimes when he was at work. I told him of course it was okay, you used to watch him all the time."

She pauses and I clear my throat. "Right."

"Right," she repeats, a little sarcastically I think. "But then he explained that the two of you were… seeing each other? I… I - do you see why this would come as a shock to me, Bella? I confided in you! All those months I told you things – private things about how I felt and you just, just sat there and listened and pretended to be my friend – "

"I wasn't pretending." I defend myself quietly. "I did want to be your friend."

"What are you hoping to accomplish with this?" she asks, lowering her voice.

"Nothing. We didn't plan this it… just-"

"It just happened. Mmm, okay. You know, I actually trust my ex husband, and if he says he wasn't screwing you before I left then I believe him. But that has nothing to do with you, Bella. I mean, if you want to watch my son, fine. I'm not worried about it. But if Jaime comes home telling me stories about you and Edward there are going to be problems, I swear to God."

I don't know what to say. Never has someone spoken to me like this and the worst part is I don't blame her. I can tell myself it's all okay because she chose to leave him, and that they're officially, legally divorced… but when it comes down to it I have betrayed her.

But while I want to say that I'm sorry, I can't. Because while I regret that she feels this way, I don't regret having Edward back in my life. It's messy and imperfect and the timing's questionable but it's what gives me light in the morning and an easy mind at night.

"Okay."

"Fine." She promptly hangs up.

I sit for a moment on my bed, my skin prickly and hot in the wake of confrontation.

* * *

Sophie's swimsuit is bright pink.

I chose it because the color makes it easier for me to see her when she's surrounded by other children. I did the same thing when she was little, when we'd go to the park. Bright colors, always.

She doesn't know. She thinks I like pink as much as she does.

Jacob taught her to swim when she was still pretty tiny. She loves it still.

My phone chimes.

_Will you come over later?_

Summer heat has nothing on Edward's words and my face flushes.

_Okay. I'll cook_

_Ok. Off at 8_

The sudden remembrance of Tanya's anger from earlier abbreviates my giddiness; I'll have to tell Edward. I'll tell him tonight.

I return my phone to its pocket in my purse and watch Sophie dance, droplets of water crystalline in her hair.

* * *

Edward is actually not half bad at cooking. I'm just better.

I wasn't always. Except for knowing forty different ways to prepare fish – thanks to my father's obsessive affinity – I was clueless until I got married, at which point Jacob's older sister took pity on me.

Now another man reaps the reward. Sometimes this still stings, if I think about it a certain way, but it's getting better. Jacob loved me and I loved him. There's not much more I can do for him than acknowledge that we both loved as honestly and as much as we knew how.

I know this, in my heart, and it soothes.

And I think, I know, he would want me to be happy.

I can try and rationalize things or make sense of the past or I can just admit it: Edward makes me happy.

He and I have a good thing.

Not even the brief discussion we have about his ex-wife's phone call is enough to dampen the mood.

Progress.

After dinner and a several rounds of Uno with Sophie and Jaime, who I suspect cheats and is teaching my daughter how to do the same, we put a movie on. Jaime falls asleep first, and though she fights valiantly, Sophie goes right after.

Edward and I look at each other. We don't say it but I know he's been waiting to be alone and I have too.

He turns down the volume and presses play again and then we go tiptoe away.

"That didn't take long," he whispers, pulling me down the hall.

"I think Sophie's tired from swimming."

He looks at me at he opens the door to his bedroom. "Probably."

I don't know why I'm still wearing shoes so I kick them off. Barefoot is always better.

On the wide, soft bed I lay back next to him, scooting up so I can recline against his pillows. He rolls right on to me and I open up so he can be closer, closest.

He makes my heart go so, so fast when he does the things he does, when he kisses my ear and licks my neck, sucking my skin. I can't even open my eyes.

Finally we kiss, and I know finally _finally_ I need to be with him in every way, because I love him, I do.

I wrap my legs loose around him and he runs his hands up and down my thighs, his skin and my skin, warm. He uses his chin to push down my shirt and then sucks the skin there, his lips soft and his chin rough on my breasts.

My lips are at his ear and I whisper, "I want you."

He nods, and then his mouth closes around my nipple and I moan and run my fingers through his hair.

I am glad he left the lights on. I want to look at him and let him look at me. He was the first to ever have me and I hope he is the last.

He's kissing me again, untamed and crazy kisses, saying that he wants me too.

"I want to love you," he says, and I wish he would.

In a second he's kneeling, his hands pushing my skirt up and my panties down. I open my arms but he's opening my legs, lying on his stomach so he can kiss what he sees.

"What –"

"Shh."

His mouth is so _hot. _He licks slowly and fast, burning me with feel-good, his tongue playing like when we kiss.

I know I won't last long, I hear it my breathing and feel it; my eyes shut tight, I see colors behind my eyelids.

And then he slips his fingers inside and

I want it to last forever.


	23. Satiate

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

"Because I'll want you to stay."

And I'll want to stay, too, but I can't yet. I try to understand why he started something he won't finish. "So why – "

"I want to make you feel good, Bella," he says, running his hand under my skirt, over my still-bare bottom.

"You do make me feel good," I whisper, kissing the stubble on his chin, biting it.

He smiles, pulling my closer and I can feel how hard he is. "Good."

We kiss for awhile, slow, meandering kisses that last and last until the taste of me is gone and it's just him again.

"When can I come stay?" I ask, pulling away slightly.

"I don't have another night off like this for two weeks."

"What?" My heart sinks. "Why didn't you tell me, I could've left Sophie with Leah or my parents…?"

"I don't know, I didn't think it was going it happen so soon," he sighs, lying back and roughing his hand through his hair.

"Do you think it's too soon?"

"No." He looks at me. "But you… set the tone and I didn't know if _you_'d think it was. If it was up to me we'd have made love weeks ago."

"I've wanted you, Edward." I snuggle closer to him, craving his body heat. "I just wasn't ready."

"And you are now?"

"Yes."

"You know I've fallen in love with you again?" he says quietly, clasping our hands between us. "I think about you, about this… it's different than before, when we were younger. I loved you then, but this…" He shakes his head and looks down at our hands, his face serious

I'll need to leave soon but I really don't want to, and I wish more than anything I could stay in this bed, wrapped in blankets and him.

I want this to be real, to be requited, to be forever. I am tired of wanting and waiting.

He's looking at me again, and I see the vulnerability and hope I feel reflected back at me. Maybe he has my heart in his hands but I see now I have his in mine as well.

"Well, I think I might love you too," I say, my thumb tracing his bottom lip.

* * *

June becomes July and I tell my parents and Leah that Edward and I have made the decision to be together.

It's a bit of an odd thing to have to announce but with regard to our backgrounds we feel it's better that way.

No one else though, because everyone else will find out eventually and on their own and it isn't anyone else's business anyway.

But my mother already knows; she's known since the day I brought him up. She can see that I love him; sees me laughing more than I have in years, receiving texts that make me grin giddy. My father is more frugal with his approval but I think like me, he just wants to protect himself. Because if I get hurt, he hurts...it's always been that way with us.

Leah is accepting and supportive too. I look forward to spending time with both her and Edward at the same time. It's important to me for her to like him, to trust him.

"You could invite him to the concert," she suggests.

"Maybe I will…"

And I do.

"It depends on how things are going at the hospital," he says. "But I'd like to go, yeah."

"And what about tonight?" I want to know, suspecting that he's going to have to cancel on me again.

"Tonight looks good so far. The only surgery I had scheduled was this morning."

If we are able to make a life together, this is something I will have to get used to and the thing is, I'm not worried about it.

But that's then.

This is now, and right now I need to feel his hands on my skin, his everything on my everything. I want to watch him as he watches me satiate myself on his body.

* * *

Sophie is with her grandparents when Edward comes to get me in his pickup truck, the one he uses for yard work.

There's not a full moon but it's close, and the nighttime is illuminated by it.

I do not ask where we're going when he turns onto an old dirt road; I just hold his hand and let him take us there.

My heart skips like a stone on a pond.

"Remember this?"

I nod, a little overcome that _he_ remembers.

He gets out of the cab and a moment later I feel the truck shake when he jumps into the back. I let myself out and walk around to join him and he holds out his hands, hauling me up over the tailgate.

This might be the best place in all of Forks to see the stars and it is where he took my virginity when I was sixteen, on a blanket in the tall grass.

Settling down on the sleeping bags and comforters he has so thoughtfully provided, I watch in amusement as he grabs a couple of beers from a cooler and pops them open, giving me one.

"What's next, a bonfire? Keg stand?" I tease, knocking his leg with my knee.

"Maybe," he snorts, smiling as he sips.

Wind soughs restlessly through the trees, making their silhouettes dance against the blue-black sky and the stars are everywhere, pinpricks perfect and pristine.

"I appreciate the gesture," I say after my second beer, touched that he would do something so sentimental and sweet. For the amount of times we've promised not to relive the past we still find ourselves romanticizing the good parts and maybe that's okay.

Setting the empty bottle aside I lay back flat, intoxicated by open air and glowing stars and Edward's warm body next to mine.

We roll toward each other, tangling our arms and legs, kissing like the horny teenagers we aren't. I pull my shirt off and he pulls his off and then we are skin to skin and he feels so good this way. I unbutton his jeans and he rolls on to his back so he can kick them off while I get rid of my own, not wanting to wait for him to do it for me.

I can't believe we're here again. He's so beautiful, and I guess he's mine and I'm his; I have no issues with possession if that's the way it is. He smiles down at me and pushes against me, feeling me and letting me feel him, smooth and hot and firm.

He goes down on me again and this time there's no one around to hear me gasp and groan when he makes me come.

"I love you, Bella, you know that right?" I'm still shaky when he slides back up, my muscles contracting. He rubs his hard against my wet and it feels so good I feel like we could just come from that.

"Yes," I breathe, pushing my heels into his ass and bringing him inside. "Love you…"

It's been a long, long time since I've made love. He goes slow and deep and every thrust feels so good it almost hurts. And even though he takes his time he's not gentle and I don't want him to be; that's for another time, another place. Right now I want him to lose himself in me.

He lowers his face so he can kiss me while he moves inside me, and I bring my fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, holding him as close as I can.

* * *

_and, because there will be at least one inquiry if not twenty, yes, bella's on the pill and no, i didn't feel the need to write out that conversation. _


	24. Special

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

When we come home from sweet-underneath-the-stars-sex, the connection between us is downright indelible.

It feels good to be comfortable with Edward like this, like how we used to be, even better. We stand in the kitchen, barefoot and sipping soda and I can see it being this way

Forever.

Thoughts of our carnal knowledge float like feathers through my mind and while he's heating up the Chinese food he'd earlier ordered I decide to distract him back to bed.

From down the hall I hear the microwave beeping faintly, calling us back to a dinner we mightn't eat for hours but then he closes the bedroom door and there's nothing else.

Now that we've said it, it comes easily and true: _I love you, I love you, I love you._

I crash into him and

he comes into me and

eventually we fall asleep.

There's love in the dark and then love in the day.

I look forward to fall again when we can leave his windows open, nothing but screen between us and outside over there. But for now, it's summer. It's gorgeous and it's golden and even in the morning it's so damn hot.

He's still asleep when I wake up. Quietly, I use the bathroom, using my finger to brush my teeth before going back to bed.

"I could sleep all day," he mumbles, his chin rough against my shoulder.

"Me too," I admit, feeling sleepy once more.

We draw close, on our sides, bodies pressed together.

"You brushed your teeth." His green eyes open slow, making my heart thump funny. I wonder when I will get used to how good he looks. I feel it in the flutter of my tummy.

My body, not used to being used the way I insisted on using it for most of the night, is sore; I almost feel bruised from the inside out.

"Sort of," I say, shrugging, running my tongue over my teeth..

He slips out of bed and goes to the bathroom while I snuggle deep into the sheets, feeling all is well in my world.

"Better," he says when he comes back, minty-mouthed and smirking.

Even though I know better I let him touch me and when I can, push him onto to his back and lower myself down, letting him inside my body again.

* * *

"I hate leaving you now."

I cup my hand around the back of his neck affectionately. "It's okay. I know how this works, Edward."

"I know you know. But still."

"I have to go get Sophie. I told your mother I'd bring her by to play with Jaime."

Edward's face relaxes. "Did you, now?"

"I did. So I'm fine. We're fine. Go to work, I'll see you later on."

He pulls me closer for a kiss and I let myself be lost again.

I know the infatuation won't last forever. That's not the point.

It's more than that, it's always been more, and long after the butterflies have fluttered away there will be something deeper to sustain us.

Because if there wasn't it would not have been so simple for me to fall into this thing with him, for me to trust. But as it is, I do trust, and it's a relief.

* * *

My daughter and I sit across from one another my bed, criss cross apple sauce.

When I was a kid, we called it sitting Indian style. Sophie has since made me see the politically correct light, and she didn't even look down her nose at me when she did.

So, criss cross apple sauce. It rhymes.

"Is that Jaime's?" I ask, tugging gently on the hem of her Star Wars shirt.

"Yep. But he asked his dad so it's okay."

"That's cool." I watch her, trying to gauge the best way to segue way into the conversation I need to have with her.

There isn't any.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about, Soph. "

"Is it good or bad?"

Involuntarily, I think back to when I had to tell her about Jacob.

"It's good. It's about Jaime's daddy. He's … like my best friend, you know?"

She tilts her head a little, frowning just barely. "I thought Aunt Leah was your best friend."

"She is," I say. "But Edward is my … boy-best-friend. We're probably going to be hanging out a lot."

"Boyfriend?" Sophie wrinkles her nose, smiling in spite of herself.

I just nod, still gauging her reaction. She sits quietly for the longest time, picking at a thread coming free from the blanket.

"That's different from a best friend…" She peeks up at me, and I know she knows what I'm saying.

"Yeah, it is a little bit. What do you think about that? About Edward?"

"He's nice. Jaime and him play wrestling a lot."

"He's a good dad," I agree. "But what do you think about me being with him?"

"Like with Daddy?"

I've been waiting for her to make the connection, but it still cuts right to the core. She's perceptive, and I wonder how much she senses, even subconsciously.

"Kind of… but, Sophie, no one's like Daddy, you know? He was special in one way and Edward's special in another."

"You like him a lot," she sighs.

"A lot."

"Do you love him?" she asks, suddenly seeming very adult.

"Yes." I pull her closer, on to my lap. "He makes me feel happy."

"Do you still love Daddy?"

"I'll always love your dad, Soph. Just because he's in heaven it doesn't mean he can't be in our hearts, too." And I mean it.

"But how can you love him _and_ Jaime's dad?" She twists around to gaze up at me.

I take my time answering, because it matters. And I want her to get it, and I don't want her to feel like I'm trying to replace her father.

"Because… I think maybe each person comes with their own bunch of love. Different kinds love." I bury my face in her soft, dark hair. "I love you most all."

We lay back and I snuggle her while she allows it. Sometimes she seems to need it as much as I do, other times she's too frisky and full of feisty.

"Mama?" she whispers, pushing her face into my neck.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you don't cry so much."

* * *

_i know you recognized it when you read it._

_crash - dave matthews_


	25. Sweet

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Sophie scowls out of her bedroom window, resenting the rain.

She'd wanted to go back to the swimming hole today.

"C'mon Soph. I'll make snickerdoodles…"

"No," she snaps, folding her arms.

Trying to be patient, I fold my own arms and hover in the doorway, catching a faint glimpse of her reflection in the glass: girl on one side, raindrops on the other.

"Chocolate chip?"

"I hate the stupid rain," she mutters.

"Sorry, baby, but you're gonna have to get over it. It's rain. Nothing you can do about it – "

"I don't care!" she shrieks, her face mottled red, more ogre than fairy.

"Hey." I step into her room, having had enough. "You're being bratty. I'm sorry the weather's crappy but there is _nothing you can do about it_. Cool down. I mean it, Sophie."

She half turns toward me, glowering at the floor.

"And fix your face," I add.

"Okaaay," she whines somewhat contritely. "But I'm bored."

"Then go watch TV. I have to write for awhile."

"Why can't Jaime come over?"

"Because he's spending the day with his dad." I'm with her on that one. I wish Edward could come over, too. "I'll call Leah, see if Nat's back from her cousin's house."

Sophie brightens, a hint of sun on a cloudy day.

* * *

I'm in the produce section, contemplating whether I want Rainier cherries or Bing, when I run into a girl I've known since the ninth grade.

"Hi Bella." She smiles warmly, adjusting the baby sling in front of her.

"Jessica!" I give her a quick kiss on the cheek, careful not to jostle the sleeping child. "I didn't know you'd had another one; I haven't seen you since…"

"Since Pumpkin Patch two years ago," she finishes, nodding. "I know." She turns so I can better see her baby. "His name's Riley."

"He's so cute," I breathe, fascinated by his tiny perfection.

"Thanks. How've you been? "

"I've been… great, actually. Really good."

"I'm so glad," she says sincerely, and I know she's thinking of Jacob.

We're quiet for a beat.

She shifts, looking intently at the marked down strawberries beside us. "Actually I… I think I may have seen you recently? Picking up pizza from Home Slice a couple of nights ago?"

My heart skips a beat, goes a little faster. "Yeah, that was me."

"Oh okay. I mean, I was in the car but I thought I saw you…and Edward. Are you guys back together?"

And there it is.

"Yes."

"Wow." She laughs quietly. "That's amazing… after all this time, huh?"

I watch her carefully, wondering what she really thinks, but she doesn't seem to think anything. Her eyes are kind.

"You have no idea," I admit, shaking my head.

Reaching forward suddenly, she squeezes my free hand. "I think it's really cool you've reconnected."

I'm a little speechless. I haven't seen this girl in years but she knows; she knows what I'm afraid of and she knows just what to say. I squeeze her hand back: _thank you._

Her baby stirs, and she strokes his fist with her finger. "Well, I should go. It was good seeing you. Maybe I'll see you at Pumpkin Patch this year."

"I hope so. Take care, Jessica."

I watch her walk away, one hand on her cart and the other on her sling.

I think I'll get the Rainier. They're a pretty color.

* * *

It's been raining steadily for three days now, and it doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon. The back yard is swamped and the street out front has become a shallow river.

Around the time This Great Monsoon began, one of the doctors Edward works with went out of state for a family emergency, leaving the others scrambling to pick up the slack. I've seen Edward once since this happened and that was just today, when he dropped Jaime off so I could babysit.

The children have erected a fort of chairs, sheets and blankets in the living room and they've been in it all afternoon, coloring, snacking, plotting, imagining. I am in the kitchen with coffee and my laptop, answering emails and writing bits and pieces of my story, when the lights flicker and then go out.

Sophie and Jaime shriek bloody murder, one voice in two bodies, and if I hadn't been so spooked myself I'd have laughed at how silly it sounded.

"Mom!" Sophie calls, her voice shaky.

"It's okay, stay put so I can light some candles…"

"Can you come here first?" It's Jaime this time, and he sounds genuinely freaked out.

Holding my cell phone out in front of me to provide a tiny light, I make my way down the hall to the children, who are huddled beneath the fort like twin ghosts.

"Come on you guys," I laugh, nudging someone's toe with my own.

They follow me back down the hall, and I have to admit I'm glad they are with me. It's been a while since I was afraid of the dark, but I wouldn't want to be alone right now, not in a raging storm, and not when there's no electricity.

Soon we are surrounded by candles, and with nothing else to do I resort to making shadow animals.

My phone rings; Leah.

"Bella?"

"Hey, girl. Is – "

"Is your power out?" she blurts.

"Yeah, it is. Why, is yours?"

"Ugh, yeah, this sucks. I have like, one candle," she complains.

"Well… hopefully it'll come back on soon."

"Hopefully. Anyway, I was just checking on you… " She trails off, and I hear another voice, muffled.

"Collin's there, isn't he?" I ask dryly.

"Mm, yeah… he didn't like me being alone," she says, her voice suddenly higher.

"I'm glad. Anyway, gotta go. Call me tomorrow."

It's good she's not by herself. And even though I do wish I wasn't alone with two small children, I know that it's okay. This aloneness I can handle. It's temporary.

Eventually I fall asleep to the sound of wind and rain, cuddling the kids beneath the soft, warm blankets in my bed.

It is still pitch-black when Edward wakes me up.

"Hey," I whisper, groggy and disoriented.

He starts to whisper but I quiet him, easing out of the bed. I train the beam of a flashlight along the floor and we follow it back downstairs, our footsteps drowned out by the storm.

"I didn't realize the power was out," he said, his hand wrapping around my hip. "You should have called."

"I didn't want you to worry. We were okay."

We feel our way to the kitchen, where I set the flashlight down on the counter so its light faces up. "Are you hungry? What time is it?"

"Too late to be eating."

"I have cherries."

"Okay."

I grab the bowl and motion for him to follow me to the living room.

"They made a blanket fort," I point with the flashlight, "and stayed in it all day."

"Those two are something else." Edward laughs lowly, taking the bowl from me and collapsing onto the couch. I sit beside him, tucking into his side.

"You could have stayed in bed, Bella."

"I know. I wasn't expecting you by the way."

"Isn't that why you gave me a key?"

"Yes, but I meant tonight in particular. I just assumed Jaime would sleep over."

"I miss you," he says simply.

I lean up and kiss his cheek. "I miss you too."

Soon he's tired and we curl up on the couch, spooning. It's romantic and sweet and totally uncomfortable.

"Let's sleep in the fort," I suggest, only half kidding. "I have extra comforters in the linen closet."

So we set up a makeshift bed on the floor and are asleep in minutes, lulled by the weather and exhaustion.

And yet I'm not surprised when we wake up tangled, his hand between my legs, his mouth on the back of my neck.

I cannot see a thing but I can feel everything. There's something really sexy about loving in the dark like this, with no sight, just taste and touch. He drags my panties off and curves around me, opening my legs a little and entering me from behind.

We slide together slow, and it feels like we are moving in waves.

In the morning we wake up to Jaime and Sophie's giggly accusations that we have stolen their fort. The power is back on so I make pancakes while Edward brews coffee. My stomach aches with how sweet it can be, with how completed I feel. Maybe it shouldn't take a man, maybe I should be happy just because, but I don't want to analyze it or intellectualize it.

Just feel it.

I peek over to where he leans against the counter, reading the paper.

This feels permanent to me.


	26. Bittersweet

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Jaime's days in Forks are coming to a close.

We watch Sophie lead him through the sprinklers, teasing him, laughing when he almost catches her.

Sometimes it's like they're little-in love, fated to have feelings for one another because of the blood running through their veins.

"I'm going to tell him tonight," Edward promises, his hand close enough to my thigh that I imagine I feel its heat.

"I'm surprised he hasn't already noticed," I muse, thinking back over the past week. Edward and I are never blatant in our affection, but there are times when we are too close for our relationship to be considered only friendly. Of course, a child of seven knows mostly what you tell them, but still.

Sophie hadn't seemed all that surprised when I told her.

"Because she's used to… you being alone, Bella. Jaime's still used to me and Tanya as a unit, as his _parents._ I don't think he even considers a reality outside that – why would he?" Edward explains.

"Well, I still wish you already told him. I'm terrified he'll hate me now."

"He adores you. Don't worry about it." This time his pinkie does touch me and I quickly cover his hand with mine, craving contact, even just a little.

I wish it were that easy.

* * *

Ever since I was little, I've loved taking baths. The bathtub in the master bedroom is nothing special, but it's wonderful simply because _it's a tub_ and made for soothing. I feel like I never get to use it; hurried showers are about all I have time for.

I've just gotten out of a bath I nearly fell asleep in when the phone rings. Wrapping my bathrobe a little tighter around my damp skin, I hurry to bed and flop on to my back.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's me." Edward sounds glum, and I suspect The Conversation didn't go as smoothly as he'd anticipated.

"Hey… you okay?"

He exhales harshly. "Nah, not really. Jaime's a little freaked out. He doesn't get it… at all."

Even though this possibility has always been a very real one, my heart sinks. We've been relatively lucky so far, having garnered the support of my parents and his, a few friends. My own daughter has accepted Edward with grace that baffles even me.

But like Edward pointed out before, all Sophie has is me. Jaime still has both of his parents, and to him they belong together. That's the way it should be, for him at least, but it isn't.

It is what it is.

"It'll take time," I say, sharing his disappointment. "He loves his mom and he probably wants to feel loyal to her. Do you think he'll mention it to her?"

"I'm not sure. He might just deny it in his head, you know? Or maybe not. I don't know."

"Do you still want to hang out tomorrow night or should we just… take a break?"

"No, I want to see you," Edward says stubbornly. "Jaime's not going to get used to this if we avoid it."

That's true, but I also don't want to push Jaime into something simply because it's convenient for us. Still, in the end Edward is his father and they _are_ close. I'll just have to trust he knows his kid and that he knows what's best.

"Don't forget, the concert's on Friday." My heart beats double time. I can't wait to do something like this with him, to do something like this at all.

"There's no way I could forget."

And I can hear the smile in his voice.

* * *

When Sophie and I meet Edward and Jaime at the movie theatre, Jaime greets me the way he always does, with a smile and a one armed hug. He won't really look at me though.

It is as if he sees me with new eyes, and I want so much to pass his test, to be the same Bella he's always known. It isn't just because he is Edward's son – they look so alike with nearly identical eyes and hair – but also because he's a great kid, and Sophie's best friend.

I decide my best bet is to play it cool and casual. Tonight I'll follow the lead of a seven year old boy.

By the time we go for ice cream after the movie, he's back to normal. I'm not naïve enough to think this is the last of the awkwardness, but it gives me hope. In time he'll realize that he can trust me truly, and that liking – even loving – me is not betraying his mother.

The next day is his last full day, so he and Edward are spending it together. I explain this as best I can to Sophie, who really wants to go over there, finally promising we'll stop by in the evening to say (another) last good bye. She's a little quiet but not too gloomy; we've been preparing for Jaime's end of summer departure for a while. Right now she feels like her whole world is shifting and in a way, it is.

I'm just glad she and Natalie have gotten so close. There are few things worse than watching your child hurt.

We make Jaime's favorite brownies with lots of chocolate chips inside and bring them over around eight. Edward and I hang out in the kitchen, keeping things platonic while the kids play quietly in the bedroom. Sophie's not the only one already feeling the void that Jaime's absence will leave.

Edward's face is drawn and he seems epically exhausted.

"You okay?" I squeeze his hand, my own heart squeezing in the process.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to this. It was so good having him here, Bella. This… just isn't right."

"No, it's not. Kids need their parents," I say, letting go of his hand.

"How do people do this?" he asks, his voice breaking a little.

"I don't know, they… just do," I say, thinking of Jacob, and of meeting the impossible head on only because you have to and there are no other options.

Jaime appears next to me, bits of brownie flecked all over his mouth.

"Thanks for the brownies," he says, glancing quickly at Edward, who looks like he's about to cry.

"You're welcome, J." I slip off my stool and crouch beside him, running my hand down his arm, a quick gesture of affection. "I'm really, really gonna miss you. You're one of my favorite kids."

He bites his lip and smiles. "I'll miss you guys too."

The next day I take Sophie back to school shopping. Edward took Jaime to the airport early in the morning before going to work, and I have a feeling I might not hear from him for the day. He'd had a lot on his mind, and in his heart, the night before.

I'm so attached to Sophie; I can't imagine having her gone for most of the year. I wish I could take this pain away from Edward but there's nothing I can do other than be available when he needs me.

It's weird, the way we rebuild after things fracture and fall apart. Edward was once half of a whole and so was I; now we're our own whole. At least, we're beginning to be. Things are still pretty new, just a few months in. Every beautiful thing seems to be tempered with a real, practical aspect of our situation.

But that's life in general I guess, the sweet unable to live without the bitter. My eyes fall on the oak in the backyard and it puts a smile on my face but an ache in my chest because it is lovely and warped and messy.

My phone flashes with a text and I pick it up, wondering when it came through and why I didn't hear it.

It's from Edward.

_thanks for loving me. _


	27. Guilt

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

I slip my new sundress down over my head, letting it flutter down around me as I watch in the mirror. It's pretty, and if the material was any lighter it might be slightly see through. But it's what I bought to wear for tonight and I want to wear it.

Leah and Collin promised to be here early so that we could make the drive into George and get decent lawn spots for the concert. With Collin's connections we easily could have secured actual seats but there's just something about summer and sprawling out in the grass with beer and blankets.

Edward's shift got pushed back so that he gets off with little time to spare, so I'm a little bummed out.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," he'd promised.

We haven't seen much of each other lately. He comes by for dinner sometimes, or breakfast, depending on when he's going in to or coming out of work. He has fallen back into a routine, one that no longer revolves around Jaime, and I watch as his sadness turns to resignation. I wish there was a better way, and sometimes we even talk about it, but for now we deal with what we have.

I can't do much but let him know I am available to him.

Always.

I fix my hair, leaving it down despite the cloying mugginess outside and slip into a pair of flip flops before heading downstairs.

"Oh, God. You're gorgeous," Leah sighs when she sees me. "Come on, let's go."

Collin hugs me the way he tends to do; I learned a while back not to be put off by his touchy-feely cheer. Watching the affectionate banter between him and Leah warms me… it's so obvious that there is someone for everyone and he is definitely for her.

"Sophie was cool with spending the night?" she asks, twisting in her seat so she can look at me.

"Are you kidding me? She loves going over there. My mother totally spoils her, it's ridiculous. I wasn't allowed to get away with half the stuff she does."

"Grandparents," Leah commiserates, smirking.

"Yeah, well school's about to start back up so she might as well party it up." I tug my dress down over my knees.

Just under three hours later we make it to the Gorge Amphitheatre, which Leah jokes is "_so gorge_ _at sunset". _ It's good to be in the company of friends doing something like this. Bit by bit I'm getting pieces of myself back, remembering what it was like to live without the constant undertow of grief or guilt.

Edward calls as we head toward the gates, saying he's just hit the road and that he'll call again when he's close by.

It's a bright, sunny day, the wide open sky blue and full with happy white clouds as opposed to the emo grey ones we're used to. A lot of folks in the parking lot are playing the band's albums and Leah dances as she walks, linking her arm through mine. Eventually we find a place inside and sit on our blanket to relax while Collin goes to get overpriced beer and other novelties.

By the time the opening band comes out, the smell of pot permeates the air and Edward still hasn't come. I close my eyes anyway, determined to enjoy myself no matter what. My happiness does not depend on him only now it sort of does, and for the millionth time I think of how similar this is to high school, when your entire existence boils down to _is he here?_

My heart sinks further when the band comes out, opening with a loud and rowdy song Leah and I have danced to a hundred times. In fact, she's dancing again, joyful and free, I can even hear her voice atop the rest of the crowd's. Collin glances over at me and gives me a sympathetic smile, offering me another beer.

I take it but I don't drink it.

One of my favorite songs comes on and then my phone vibrates in my hand. Edward's texting; there's no way we'd hear each other in all of this.

"I'm gonna go meet him by the bathrooms," I yell over the music, holding up my phone.

The crowd is thick but I make it through eventually, slightly giddy from the contact high as I make it to our meeting place. Moments later Edward looms through the sea of people, his face cracking into a smile when he sees me; I feel like I've found my other half.

Wordlessly I take his hand and lead him back to Colin and Leah, who greet him and give him things to drink. The sun fades, the stars come out and the music goes on. He stands behind me, his arms wrapped around me, and our bodies sway together.

And when they play that song, the one he played for me one cold night a forever ago, he bends down and kisses my ear because we both remember.

* * *

We should be tired on the way home but we're not.

Instead he listens and laughs while I ramble excitedly about my favorite moments, the songs I loved best. Really, I'm probably still half high off all the second hand smoke.

Back at his house, I beg him to stargaze with me for a little while. We never have enough time and now that I have him I don't want to waste it with sleep. He kicks off his shoes and sits at the patio table while I perch on top of it, hoping I'm lucky enough to see a shooting star.

But soon I am distracted and I cannot keep my hands – or my mouth – off of him and I pull him to stand in the space between my legs, pressing us as close as we can go.

We kiss lazily, laughing a little until the lightness becomes neediness and then kissing isn't enough and he wraps my legs high around his waist and starts to finger me, making me wet and achy for him.

I try to make words out of the incoherence of my desire.

"Love me right here."

"You love doing it outside," he laughs breathlessly, but he lays me down flat, tugging my hips to the edge of the table top.

"I love doing it with you," I say, easing my panties off, watching him pull his zipper down, releasing himself from his pants and boxers.

"My bed would be better," he chides. He slides his fingers inside of me and then pulls them out, replacing them with what I really want, with what he really wants.

* * *

In the morning we are in the shower when I decide to pleasure him and that is what we're doing when the phone starts to ring. It rings until the machine picks it up and then it's quiet again, water hitting the tile, Edward's voice caught in gasps.

He's throbbing now, his fingers in my hair when _my_ cell phone begins ringing. It's the ring tone associated with my mother's number.

But Edward is close, and so I continue to love him with my mouth until he comes. We stay in the shower a little while longer, washing and talking and goofing around.

My phone starts ringing, and this time I get bad feelings in my chest so I get out, quickly wrapping my hair in one towel and my body in another.

"Mom?" I answer.

"Bella? Thank God. Listen, I don't want you to worry, but we're at the hospital. Sophie broke her arm – "

"What?" I all but shriek, nearly slipping as I dart into Edward's bedroom. "What do you mean? What happened?"

"Bella." My mother is using her no-nonsense voice, one I know all too well from childhood. "I know it's easier said than done but _calm down_. She is fine. She was jumping on the trampoline and slipped."

"What was she doing on the trampoline?"

"We stopped at the house to get her bathing suit," she explains. "She wanted to go to the swimming hole, and your house is on the way…"

I close my eyes, trying to slow my racing heart. She's fine. She's fine.

She's

fine.

Sophie and that damned trampoline.

"We'll be there in ten." I make eye contact with Edward, who is listening and already pulling clothes on to his still damp skin.

"What happened?" he asks once I'm off the phone.

"My mother stopped at the house for like, five minutes and Sophie managed to break her arm on the trampoline," I say, struggling into cut offs and a t-shirt.

His eyes widen. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know… I mean, yes. Let's just – "

He's already got his keys. "I know. Come on."

The tears come in the car. Prickles of guilt nag at my gut even though I know, rationally, there is nothing that I could have done differently. Sophie could have broken her arm just as easily had I been home with her; God knows the trampoline has made me nervous for years.

But still.

Edward's hand finds my knee.

"I know you feel like you should've been there," he says, pausing at a stop sign. "I know. I know _exactly_ how it feels. But she'll be okay."

One of the benefits of dating a doctor is that he can park wherever the hell he wants. Inside the hospital, Edward leads the way while I phone my mother, trying to pinpoint their exact location.

Sophie's little cast is bright pink. I chuckle tearfully when I see it, remembering a similar one I had on my wrist as a child.

Apparently my mother remembers too, because she smiles, shaking her head. "The apple doesn't fall from the tree."

"Or the trampoline," I say, sitting gingerly beside Sophie."How is it, baby?"

She shrugs. There are tear tracks across her cheeks from where she was crying but otherwise she seems all right. "Can I get an ice cream?"

I promise her we can and then leave her with Edward so I can handle paperwork and insurance. My mother falls in step with me as we walk down the hall.

"Stop over thinking it," she warns, grasping my arm. "She's fine."

"I know that," I say. "I just… it's hard, you know? I should've been there and instead I was fooling around with Edward like I have no responsibilities. It's just ridiculous…"

"You can be a good mother and still have fun Bella. For God's sake, you're not even thirty yet…" Her words come out in a flood now, as if they've been building up and have no place else to go. "I know you. As soon as this happened, I knew how you'd react - I even said something to Charlie." She pauses, stopping me from going any further down the hall. "I want you to be happy, to live your life and stop feeling guilty. Loving someone else and wanting to be with them doesn't make you a bad person and it sure doesn't make you a bad mom."

Simple words, simply said, but I needed so badly to hear them, especially from someone like my mom. She holds me when I cry, handing me a tissue from the box on the counter.

* * *

Back in the room, Sophie is sitting on Edward's lap, giggling quietly at something he's saying.

They've their backs to me, so I watch for awhile, loving the way she twirls the hair on the nape of his neck between her fingertips.


	28. Pinwheels

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Pinwheels spin playfully in the near constant breeze, their metallic gleam catching the sometimes-light. True to form, Forks has chosen Sophie's birthday to be gloomy and grey, spilling splashes of sunlight only occasionally.

When I turned eight, my mother filled our backyard with pinwheels. I still remember waking up and seeing them out there, twenty or thirty bursts of happy color. There is a picture of that day hanging in my parent's house and Sophie has always adored it.

The expression on Edward's face as he carried armfuls of pinwheels around made me want to laugh.

"Only for you," he'd said, as we'd tried to space them out evenly.

The expression on Sophie's face when she saw them made me want to cry.

I let her help me with the rest. Streamers flutter pink and yellow across lower hanging branches of trees. Balloons adorn the mailbox, the front door and the patio furniture. Sophie's a September girl like me, and it's nippy out, so she's wearing the dress Edward gave her – over jeans.

It's a sweet dress, simple and bright pink like her cast.

Edward's shift at the hospital started at mid day, so he was leaving when most everyone else was coming, bearing gifts for the birthday girl. He regrets not being able to be here but we're used to absences.

Maybe that's not the greatest thing, but it certainly comes in handy.

By late afternoon the children are cracked on out sugar and play and the adults are tired from just watching. My father cleans the grill while my mother and Esme help me deal with the mess and then it's just me, struggling to get Sophie into a bath and bed.

The more aggressively a child fights sleep, the more tired she is and mine is passing out even as she complains.

I'm tired too but I don't fight it. Once the house is locked up I take a shower of my own, exhausted in a good way, thinking back on the day, already anticipating photographs. Jacob would have loved it; he was forever having cookouts and get togethers when he was home.

This is the first big party I've thrown since he's been gone, and it feels good to feel good about it.

My own birthday is in one week and I wonder what it will bring.

In my room I turn off the light and look out over the backyard. Sophie and I left the pinwheels up and now they glitter and gleam in the moonlight, shining almost brighter than they did during the day.

* * *

When I wake up Edward is in the kitchen, eating left over birthday cake and drinking coffee in his scrubs.

His hair is a mess and he's got circles under his eyes and I think he might be the sexiest man I've ever seen.

"Hi," I say, cutting a little chunk of cake off for myself.

We kiss, icing and sloppy affection.

"Do you ever think about having more?" he asks out of the blue, his fingers sticky tickling against my hip.

"I used to, all the time," I admit. "I wanted a little boy. I used to dream about having one."

He nods. "Boys are cool. Do you think you would have if…?"

I know what he's asking.

Shrugging, I lick my fingers before pouring myself a cup of coffee. "Probably."

We're quiet awhile, and then he starts telling me hospital stories, some funny and some heartbreaking.

"Did you want more kids?" I ask when there's a lull in the conversation.

"No."

Hs sure-ness startles me. "Why not?"

"It wouldn't have been right." He casts his eyes downward, almost like he's ashamed. "We didn't… we didn't even like each other in the end, Bella. It's hard enough with Jaime gone; I can't imagine having another kid to miss."

That makes sense and I nod, sipping thoughtfully.

And then, because I am used to saying whatever I want to him, I decide to tell him the secret things I think about, late at night when I am alone or he is sleeping.

"If we stay together…"

He comes closer, his eyes wide and expectant. "If?"

"… I wouldn't mind maybe having one with you."

My stomach knots up because it's crazy talk, and we've only been back together for three and a half months. But when you know, you know and if we stay together – when we stay together – months will turn into years.

He nods, setting his cup down. "I work so much."

"So you don't – "

"It's crossed my mind."

We eye each other.

"You said if we stay together," he continues. "This is… a sure thing for me. I don't want anybody else."

"It's a sure thing for me too. Just… I'm just saying. Things change," I explain. The thought of being without him hurts.

"Not all things," he says, pushing me gently against the counter and kissing the corners of my mouth. "There are so many things I need to fix. I think about going into private practice sometimes."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. I can't be in surgery forever. I want something small and local."

"Like what, exactly?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know, but I've been talking to my Dad about it. Maybe… I don't know. Maybe by spring."

Before I can control it, hope blooms in my chest. "That would be awesome. I hate seeing you so tired all the time."

"I'd still be tired," he chuckles. "Just not as much. I don't want to miss out on my entire life because I'm trapped at work day in, day out. When Jaime's here I want to give him as much of my time as possible." Edward pauses, grinning. "He's coming for Thanksgiving, by the way."

"He is?" I gasp, hugging him. "How?"

"I spoke to Tanya for a long time about it and…we decided he should spend certain holidays with me, every time. Like, he won't be here for Christmas, but he'll come afterwards and stay through New Years. She knows. She knows it isn't right for us to be apart like this."

"I'm so glad," I sigh, relieved to my very bones. This is excellent news. We could all use a little more Jaime around here.

"Me too."

A soft rain starts to come down. Thank God it held off all yesterday.

"Do you want me to make you something for breakfast? Something more substantial?" I give the cake a pointed look.

"Actually, I think I'm gonna go lay down before I pass out."

"Want company?"

"Are you going to let me sleep?"

I swipe a dollop of icing on to my thumb and lick it off. "Eventually."

"Then let's go," he says, his voice low and playful.

Under the covers we cuddle and kiss, talking when there is something to say. Sophie could waltz in to my bedroom at any second so we keep things PG-13.

"Hey," he whispers, his thumb tracing the outline of my nipple through my tank top.

"Hm." I try to squirm away but he holds me still.

"Just so you know… I wouldn't mind either."

It takes me a second, but then I get it. And when I do, I smile.


	29. Rubber Band

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

_

* * *

_

* * *

I stare blankly at the computer screen. I've been staring at it for hours; the words make no sense.

This is the second draft of my manuscript and frankly I'm so tired of the stupid thing I'm tempted to scrap it and start over.

But I don't. A lot of time and even love has been put into this.

Plus, my editor would kill me.

My phone vibrates, letting me know I have exactly thirty minutes before it's time to pick up Sophie from school.

Even though I am half brain-dead from the editing process, I am still reluctant to leave my desk. I wanted to have it finished and ready to resubmit by Thursday.

Thursday is Thanksgiving.

Outside the sky's a burnished gray, somehow both blindingly bright and gloomy. I miss summer and its color scheme but at least the outermost fringes are starting to reflect fall, an occasional leaf flaming and lovely.

Sophie is posted up against the wall, her backpack slung on one shoulder. Some boy is standing next to her, talking, and I'm amazed at how …almost _flirty _they look.

She's eight, for God's sake.

Eventually I put the car in park and step out, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Sophie!"

Her blush is apparent, even from this far away. Boy walks away.

"Hey Mom," she says, tossing her bag and herself into the front seat.

"Hey, love." I kiss her cheek and she kisses mine. "Who was that?"

"Austin Crowley. He's in third."

"Ah. I knew his dad in high school."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

She nods, fingering the little sapphire studs in her ears. They're her birthstones.

"Mom?"

"What's up?"

"Is Jaime coming home?"

"He flew in today." I glance at her, amused at the blush that sweeps across her cheeks. "You excited to see him?"

She shrugs. "Yeah."

"Sophie?"

She looks at me expectantly, her fingers picking at the already frayed hem of her jeans.

"Do you have a little crush on Jaime?" I've wanted to ask for quite some time, but it never seemed appropriate, especially now that Edward and I are together.

She frowns, the blush deepening further. Poor kid's almost purple.

"I don't know. Isn't he… almost like my brother now?"

Nodding, I turn on to our street. "In a way, I guess."

"So that's weird."

"I know, but do you? It's okay if you do."

"Sort of. I mean, he's my best friend. For a boy. Natalie and Chrissa are my best friends but for a boy Jaime is." She rambles in earnest, her eyes darting around.

"It's okay. You guys have been friends for a long time."

"Are you gonna marry his dad?" she asks. I can see her watching me closely out of the corner of my eye.

"I don't know." I shrug. "Maybe… I'd like to, I think. If he asked me."

"Is he gonna ask you?"

"Would it bother you if he did?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. No. Would we have to move?"

"I don't know, Soph. That's a lot to think about for something that might not even happen."

This wasn't the way I'd pictured having this conversation but we're having it and I think it's okay so far.

"I don't really want to move, Mom."

* * *

Jaime isn't the same friendly kid I knew.

Sophie and I go to Edward's house so that we can all drive to dinner together, and he'll hardly even look at me. I wonder if Tanya's been whispering in his ear.

He's not rude to me, or even cold, just distant.

Finally I stop trying to engage him in conversation, letting him chat with just Sophie. I'm glad he doesn't target her. It would break her heart, and maybe his.

Edward smiles apologetically at me, grabbing my hand underneath the table. For some reason, that makes me want to cry.

"I'm sorry," he mouths.

I nod, swallowing.

"I love you," he mouths.

I squeeze his hand and trace letters into his palm. _ I love you._

_

* * *

_

Thanksgiving Day is brutally cold for November. I wrap Sophie in bright, warm clothing; leg warmers over her leggings, a thick sweater over her thermal, gloves and socks and cute boots.

If I could pull off leg warmers I would but I can't so it's jeans and layers for me.

I arrive at my parent's earlier this year, wanting to help with the pies. There are less people attending dinner than last year, but the friends we do have are some of our closest.

Stepping outside, I sit on the porch swing and think of Garrett. I wonder what he's doing right now and if he ever thinks of me.

Edward is at his parent's place with Jaime. I give him a call, letting him know how much I love him. Maybe next year we'll be together on this day.

He comes by later, surprising me both by showing up at all and because Jaime is tagging along behind him, his mittened hands holding a box.

"Extra pie," Edward winks.

"Oh, we've got plenty," I say, kissing him quickly. "But I love pie."

"Me too. Especially for breakfast."

Jaime shuffles his boots on the porch.

"Come on, let's get inside. Sophie'll be so glad you're here," I say, smiling at him.

He shrugs and nods and smiles a little.

Somewhere between the front door and the place where Sophie is I stop. Edward has stepped into the kitchen to greet my mother and it's just Jaime and me, making our way through the house.

Crouching down, I grab his hand and pray that he will truly hear me. _Feel _me.

"I miss you," I say, realizing how very true that is.

He gazes back at me, his eyes so much like Edward's.

"I know… you feel weird around me sometimes. I get it. I really get it. But I just want you to know that I'll never try and be anyone you don't want me to be. You're one of Sophie's very best friends, and she's so lucky you guys are still close. And you're Edward's boy, and I care about you both. I just… I don't want you to be upset with me. Or confused. I'll do whatever I have to, okay?"

He reaches out and wipes the tear from my eye and then frowns. "It's okay."

"You sure?"

His frown melts into a small smile. "I'm sure."

Sophie chooses that moment to round the corner. "Jaime! Come look at this!"

And with that, he's gone.

I stand a little shakily, taking deep breaths to calm myself before finding Edward.

"You all right?" he asks, his fingers delicate around the stem of his wine glass.

Walking to the counter, I find a clean, empty wine glass. "Actually, yes. I had a little chat with Jaime. It was okay. I think we'll be okay eventually."

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. "That's good. And, I know you'll be okay; I never had a doubt."

Later, when everyone's gone or asleep, we sit on the floor by the fireplace in my parent's living room, finishing off a bottle of wine and talking endlessly about everything. This reminds me of high school, when we'd do this very thing in this very place, whittling the hours away with conversation.

"Do you think… we'll end up married?" Wine has loosened my tongue.

He turns to me, pulling my elbow until we're both laying flat. The heat of the fire is soothing and I stretch my socked toes toward it.

"Will you marry me?"

My breath catches in my throat. "You mean hypothetically or really?"

"Both. Would you? Will you?"

"Yeah." My face is warm.

"Wow." He rolls closer and embraces me. "Never thought I'd hear that."

"Next year. When things have settled."

"Things will never be settled. But next spring sounds good," he chuckles, kissing me.

"You'll ask officially next spring or we'll do it next spring?" I ask, giddy and awed.

"I don't know." He roots around in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a rubber band. Then he grabs me by the hand. He loops it around my ring finger several times and kisses me for good measure. "But if you'll have me, I'll keep my promises this time."

* * *

_So, you can probably see that this is wrapping up. One more chapter? Two? And an epilogue._

_Also, I am (super excited to be) participating in the Fandom Gives Back auctions, coming up soon. Stay tuned._

_xoxo_


	30. New Snow

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

I never liked visiting Jacob's grave.

It freaked Sophie out the first time we went, and honestly, I didn't feel close to him there anyway. I felt close on La Push Beach, the grey sand gritty beneath my feet. I felt close in an empty church, by myself in a seat, long after everyone else had left.

And when Sophie and I do set aside time to remember, it's on the anniversary of the day he was born, not on the one of the day he died.

We are looking at the album again, silently pointing at the things we like. It's always the same; how he held her as a newborn, our wedding pictures. There are tears this time, but not too many.

"I'm gonna go read," she says, walking toward the staircase.

"You okay?"

She nods and gives me a small smile. I believe her.

I put the album back in its place and step out on to the back deck, glad for the clarity cold air provides.

It never gets easier but it becomes more bearable. I wonder if my daughter is crying in her room. Even if she is, it's okay. Crying can be a good thing, and I trust her to tell me what she needs. I trust her need to be alone, even if just for a time.

Leaving the deck, I go to the oak, stepping silently beneath its bare branches. I tell Jacob what it's like for me now, and I ask for his blessing for the things I want to do.

* * *

Cleaning out my dresser drawers, I come across something I haven't seen in years.

The promise ring.

It's ridiculous now; I thought I'd given it to Sophie to play dress up with, but apparently I didn't.

I rub it between my fingertips and remember the day he let me go even when his ring couldn't let go of my finger. I wore it clear to the end of that year, when the weather became cold enough to loosen all of the rings on my fingers.

It lands with a small clink amidst the other relics where it sits for two seconds before I pluck it back out and slide it on.

At Edward's house, we watch movies after dinner, Sophie sandwiched between us as our fingers play on the back of the couch. I wait until he's into what we're watching and then I slide it on to his finger. It's too small and only goes on half way.

"Can't believe you still have this." There's wonder in his voice and question in his eyes. "I can't believe it."

"I couldn't either. You can have it back now," I tease.

Sophie twists around, trying to see Edward's hand. "What is it?"

Edward takes the ring off and puts it on Sophie's finger. "A promise."

"A promise of what?"

"A promise that I'm here if you need me."

* * *

This will very likely be the last Christmas Sophie and I spend as a twosome.

I make omelets and pancakes and copiously creamed cocoa, the white swoops so indulgent they are tipping over and melting down the sides of the mugs.

We open presents underneath the tree and for the first time since Jacob left us I am at peace on Christmas morning. There is a warmth, a very definite sense of all-right-ness. I know because I know, we're going to be fine. Better than fine.

Later, at my parents we do it all over again.

I am sitting on their porch swing, wrapped in fleece and swaying gently when my phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Merry Christmas, babe."

"Merry Christmas. Was Santa good to you?"

"I think the real question is, are you really wearing a Snuggie?"

My eyes are dreamy and nearly closed and at his question they open and dart up and down the street.

Edward steps out of his truck, phone still stuck to his ear.

"You stalking me?" I snap the phone shut before he can respond.

He pauses at the bottom of the stairs. "You _are _wearing a Snuggie. I guess it's a good thing I didn't get you one."

"Ha ha," I say, getting up as gracefully as I can.

His face is cold but his lips are warm.

* * *

He proposes in the snow, simply and without fanfare.

I wish I could say I saw it coming, because technically it is something we have discussed, but it catches me by surprise.

It is New Years Eve and we have celebrated with champagne and sparkling cider for the children. Despite their plans to stay up all night they made it until one and one thirteen, respectively, before passing out on the floor of the living room.

It is too cold to be outside but we go anyway, into the hallowed hush of a snowy backyard.

The sky is vast, a glittering darkness.

The air smells of firewood and new snow, the latter of which crunches beneath my boots.

He leads me to the empty fire pit and sits me down, pulling a ring from his pocket.

A new ring, small, its stone gleaming, the brightest star.

It takes steals my words and steals my breath.

"Is this impossible?" he asks, paying homage to our second first kiss. He stares at his hands and my hands and the space between the two.

I shake my head slowly, a little dazed.

"Do you want to get married?"

"Yes."

He nods and grasps my hand, giving me the one thing I want more than almost anything.

Himself.

"Thank you," I whisper, and I know I am crying because my cheeks are frozen-on-fire.

"Love you." He seals it with a kiss.

"I love you. So much." I hold him close and kiss him, tasting traces of my tears on our lips.

"Can we go to bed now?" If there was ever a time I am desperate for him it is now.

I lead him back inside, stopping only when he pauses to lock the back door. The house glows warm with Christmas lights and if we were alone I'd make love to him in the middle of it all.

After putting the sleeping children to bed we lock ourselves in Edward's room and fall into bed. The ring feels foreign in the best way, a new and unfamiliar weight on my finger.

I touch it repeatedly.

It is the only thing I leave on when he loves me in his bed.

The barest bits of light show me his face, and his eyes, how they are only for me. I hope he can see my eyes and how they are only for him. I hope he can feel it in my kiss and the way I need him, that it is just us now, no one else, not even our younger selves.

He is in my arms and inside of me, and I take him as deeply as I can, loving him back the best way I know how.

* * *

_Fandom Gives Back auctions are going strong._

_I'm offering outakes from both this story and Volition._

http:/www(dot)thefandomgivesback(dot)com/browse(dot)php?id=395


	31. With

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

Alice gazes out the window, stirring her coffee absently.

"Is it okay? More cream?"

"No, no. Thanks." She smiles at me, her attention refocused.

We sit quietly for a while, sipping.

"So… everything's working out?" she asks, her eyes intent and very dark blue.

"With Edward?"

"Yeah."

"Things are good," I smile, sort of secretly to myself. "Really good."

She starts to smile, then frowns. "How? How is that even possible?"

"You think it's too fast?"

"No." She shakes her head, releases the spoon with a muted clatter. "No, I mean how can you look at him and not… resent him? Hate him, even?"

I want to be taken aback but frankly I'm not.

I'm not because it's a question my mother has asked me, and Leah has asked me, and I have asked me.

"Love and hate are pretty close, Alice. I choose to go with love."

"Don't be trite," she says, rolling her eyes. "Come on. I remember what it was like when he left you the last time – "

"You think he'll do it again?"

"I know he won't. My point is that you were so heartbroken it's hard for me to imagine healing properly from that, so much that you not only love him but are going to _marry_ him now. "

"You married your high school sweetheart," I sigh. "I feel like… that's pretty black and white – in the best way. I have a lot more grey, you know?"

"No, I don't know." She shrugs. "I want you both to be happy… but I don't understand this."

"I don't always understand either," I admit.

And then I tell her, just like I told my mom, and Leah, and myself.

Like I told Edward the morning after he proposed, before we told Jaime and Sophie.

"I don't want to be upset or angry or bitter. I don't want to be sad anymore. I know that's what life is, that there's sad with the happy. I know things happen and people's hearts break and mine… mine's been broken _twice_ Alice. I know what it's like to love and lose. I know what it's like to be alone. And I don't want it."

She's about to speak. I don't stop.

"Forgiving Edward was more for me than it was for him. I had to do it. But I didn't have to get back together with him. I chose to do that because I wanted it. I never really stopped loving him, and I was tired of pushing it away. Even when I didn't think about it, even when I loved somebody else, it never really went away. Do you know what that's like? To know you're screwed either way? That with them or without them you still love them?"

They pour out, my words and Alice's tears.

She nods, biting her lip.

"I'd rather it be with him."

I cry a little bit, too.

* * *

Alice stays until the end of January, and then returns to Seattle. Her trip had been a surprise, but she'd been homesick for Forks and Jasper had been busy with an important case. I wouldn't be surprised if they moved back one day.

Edward and I don't have a date set. Too many things need to happen first; too many decisions need to be made.

I will have to sell my house, which makes me a little sad. I toy with the idea of somehow keeping it for Sophie, maybe renting it out to other people until she's grown. Either way, we'll have to move.

Needless to say, Tanya is not too enamored with the idea of Edward marrying me. She's not nasty to me anymore though. Just resigned.

She's been dating someone too, someone Jaime can't stand. Ironically, this is what pushes him closer to me, as if I am the lesser of two evils.

Edward's met the guy, and says he's not so bad.

He's just… not Edward.

But like Jaime's warming to me, he'll warm eventually to his mother's companion, or whomever she chooses in the end. Even now, he and I have our on days and our off days. I know him well enough to not feel hurt when he's having an off day.

I also know him well enough to not tip toe around him anymore.

His trip to Forks is brief, just for part of winter break, but he'll be back for spring and again for summer.

* * *

"Let's do it in June."

"How traditional," Edward teases, eyeing the calendar on the fridge. "It'll be hot… maybe we should do it indoors."

"And it'll probably rain. We should definitely do it indoors. It'll be small, anyway."

"Okay." He nods. "Have you decided what you want to do with the house?"

"I think I want to rent it out. I mean, it's already paid for… it feels wasteful to just get rid of it," I ramble, mostly to myself. "I'm sort of attached to it, anyway."

"I know." He stands behind me, hugging me. "I think that'll be fine. When do you want to move?"

He's such a do-er, getting things done while I think and think.

"I'd like to wait until the kids are out of school. They should both be here, right? To help. It'll be better if we all do it together."

"So, in spring."

"Summer," I argue.

"Spring." He turns me around, so I'm facing him. "If we get married in the summer, I'd like you and Sophie to move in the spring."

He's thought about this. The fact that he _knows_ this, that it is important to him, makes my belly flutter and my heart ache.

Love isn't just feeling. It's deciding, too.

"Okay. But you have to help me find someone, for this house. I have so much to do…"

"Bella."

I look at him, into his eyes.

"Of course I'll help you. It's us now. Not just you."

Maybe I should know that, but hearing it now makes it real. I'm used to doing things on my own and while I've never been one to shun the help of others, the buck has always stopped with me. It's nice to have someone to share the burden with.

He's watching me, watching me _get it._ And he knows. He smirks, and he is so much like Edward-at-seventeen.

But better.

In my mind, I stick my tongue out at his smugness.

I kiss him anyway.

Edward leaves for work while I get ready to pick up Sophie from school. I nearly trip over his sneakers, which he always leaves by the back door. His gloves are somewhere around too, tangible signs and bits of him scattered all over my life.

Maybe we wouldn't have lasted any other way. Jasper and Alice lasted that way but maybe for Edward and me it had to happen _this_ way.

It feels good to know that now.

* * *

_so, i lied. now there will probably be one more chapter and ~then the epi. hey, i don't know. i just write. )_


	32. Tire Swing

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

The trees behind our new home tower tall, their trunks wide and their branches strong, perfect for climbing. When I lay beneath them and look up it's leaves and more leaves, vast in their greenness and awesome in their unruliness, patches of sky bluegrey between.

Edward installs a tire swing right before the kids come home for spring break. They spend hours outside in the damp chill, coming in only when they are clammy, hungry and exhausted.

Leaving the house I shared with Jacob was both easier and more difficult than I'd anticipated.

Emptying it of our possessions, I see that he is everywhere: in the deck he never treated, the quilt his sister made us, the solar system mobile dangling above Sophie's bed.

And the trampoline.

I want to be rid of it, mainly because it terrifies me more than ever in the aftermath of Sophie's broken arm, but she fights me tooth and nail until Edward shows her the tire swing.

We sell it at a garage sale, a week before we move, along with other things that have become unnecessary.

On the last Sunday of March we get a group of friends and family and move. It's a hard day, physically and emotionally, but by late afternoon we're done. I'm overwhelmed, caught between wanting to scour the old house and put things away in the new one. In the end I take Leah's advice and I pay someone to deal with the old house. Now that it's bare I remember how big it is and I don't have the energy to go room by room, cleaning and readying it to be rented.

* * *

Crazy how quickly we get used to the new house and the new street. Trash pickup is on the same day, but it's a little earlier. Every time I go outside I see someone walking their dog. There are also a lot more joggers and women power walking with strollers.

I point this out to Edward, who doesn't seem to have noticed. I call it living in an Affluent Neighborhood.

But I love Edward's house. The kitchen is brand new and it makes me want to use it. Sophie's room is bigger than the one she had before and it has a window facing the backyard. Her room was a guest room before so repainting and redecorating it take top priority.

Spring turns into summer; Jaime comes and goes and then comes to stay a while. He's taller now, much taller than Sophie and I wonder if this will continue or if she will shoot past him once puberty hits.

I spend my days writing and editing and corresponding with my editor in Seattle. Edward's hours continue to be long and tiresome, but he's already begun preparations to leave the hospital and go into private practice sometime in early fall.

All the while my eye is on the calendar, counting down the days until the wedding. As simple and small as I want it there is still much to be done and I'm glad to let my mother and Esme help.

I'm excited but Edward is ecstatic. We spend the night before staying up late, talking about what our lives are going to be like, which is sort of silly because we already have a life right now. I hope we always do this, talk about our lives, about our futures and the things we dream of.

Edward and Jaime leave early in the morning with Carlisle. I take my time getting ready, enjoying the slow, mellow pace with my daughter, Leah and Alice.

There are no bridesmaids or groomsmen.

Just us, getting married.

I don't think anyone ever means for their guest list to be as big as it ends up being. By the time I get to the church and meet Edward in front, I'm surprised and nervous by the packed parking lot.

Besides the fact we walk down the aisle together, the ceremony is otherwise traditional. We say our vows; I try not to cry and fail. I drop my flowers and Jaime picks them up.

When I am his wife and he is my husband we go out the way we came, trailed closely by the people we love the most. Everyone is kissing and hugging, taking a thousand pictures and talking all at once.

The heavens shrug and say _screw it_ and open dramatically, pelting us with raindrops instead of rice as we scatter and run for our cars.

The reception is at a country club in Port Angeles. We eat and dance and take more pictures. I find that weddings are surreal, especially when they're yours. I'm overcome by how many people seem to be rooting for us. If they have doubts or reservations – and I'm sure some of them must – they hide them well.

And it's okay.

When it's all said and done and we're alone in our hotel room he helps me take my dress off and follows me into the bath. He watches me wash the sweat from my skin and the makeup from my face and I help him reach the spots he can't, and even the ones he can. We kiss against the wall, slippery and wet, until I ask him to take me to bed.

Sex is always sublime with Edward. Tonight it's even better.

I lay down on the bed and he eases on to me, nudging my legs wider and leaning down to kiss me. He teases me, letting his tip rub me up and down until I'm antsy and sensitive and past aroused. I wrap my hand around him and squeeze hard, liking how his eyes clench shut as I guide him inside.

We do it forever. We make love slow and sweet. He holds my legs up and takes me deep, flips me on to my stomach and hits it hard from the back.

He's playful and

I love it, I love him, I love his body and

what he does to mine.

What he does to me. My body, my heart.

We rest, nibble on cake and cheese and fruit. He sucks the skin at my neck, knowing it drives me crazy and I suck at the skin near his hip bones knowing it makes him horny all over again.

Faintest light tickles at the space between the curtains. The sun wants to rise.

We fall asleep.

* * *

By fall Edward is working full time in Forks.

I handle the front desk at his office, working on my writing when there's time to do so. We say that we will hire someone officially to take over reception but weeks turn to months and neither of us seems to mind.

Sophie is a third grader now. She plays soccer and reads Roald Dahl and gets invited to slumber parties. She's becoming witty and snarky so I'm glad Edward's around to help when she tries to sass me.

Still, she's my babygirl. Some of my favorite days are when it is too rainy to do much else but make cookies and sprawl on the couch watching movies, lazy and loving life.

I marvel at the marriage of not just Edward and me, but of our whole lives, of our families, our children, our household. It's tangled together in the best way, messy and safe and warm.

Sharp and wonderful and bittersweet, it's moving by too fast, life, slipping through my fingers like sand. It's all I can do to notice the good things when I can, and they happen all the time. I think of the years I spent sad inside and sometimes I still cry for that me.

I wish I could hold her and stroke her hair and tell her things will get better.

So much better.

Best.

* * *

She flies, her eyes closed as she leans back on the tire swing.

Her hair streams behind her, brown silk ribbons in the wind.

The days are growing shorter, colder, gusts of wind kicking up sporadic whirls of leaves. The sun is rare and bright, making autumnal reds redder and what's left of the green greener.

I zip my hoodie all the way up to my chin and take a sip of hot tea, warming my hands by curving them around the cup.

Sophie is turning in circles now, twisting the rope until it won't go anymore and then she scoots back on the tire and lets it spin, her delighted shrieks passing in snatches of sound. It's impossible not to smile when she's this carefree and happy and so very Sophie.

She's getting so big, all arms and legs; I have trouble believing she came from me, that she started as the tiniest spark.

The door behind me opens and I hear before I see Jaime come outside, fresh off the plane, his father in tow.

"My turn," he says by way of greeting, laughing when Sophie tumbles gracelessly from the tire.

"Hey, J," I say, giving him an affectionate squeeze. He hugs me back tight but quick… it always takes a day or two for him to warm up again.

And it's okay.

Edward settles down behind me, his long legs around me, warm, his fingers pulling my hood down so he can rest his chin on my shoulder.

I lean back into him. "How was it?"

"Fine. Lots of traffic."

"Glad you're home."

His kisses still make me quiver inside. "Me too."

* * *

_an epilogue and then we're done._

_xoxo_

_i think john mayer's "clarity" would be a nice song for this chapter, particularly the 2nd to last section. but that's just me._


	33. Epilogue

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

a little over a year later

* * *

Down they come.

Why anyone would display oranges that way is beyond me. Grimacing, I watch one roll beneath the shopping cart.

I yawn, and it occurs to me that it's possible this is my fault. I've been out of it lately, uncoordinated.

"Bella?"

Garrett steps around me, careful to avoid the mess of oranges at my feet. "It_ is_ you…how've you been?"

Our hands meet between us; I'm glad to see him.

"Hi, Garrett." I say, squeezing his hand before releasing it. It's been such a long time and I think about him from time to time, wondering how he's doing, if he's happy.

His eyes flicker to my belly and then back to my face, realization blooming.

"How…far along are you?"

"Six months," I say, rubbing the side of my stomach out of habit. I haven't reached the really uncomfortable point yet but moving around is becoming cumbersome.

He smiles slowly, bending to pick up oranges. "Charlie did say you'd gotten married."

"Yeah, last summer."

" Edward?"

I nod and this moment passes between us. He remembers, I remember.

"I'm glad for you, Bella. This… suits you."

"You're being nice," I laugh.

"No, I'm being honest. You're beautiful."

"Well, thank you." I manage to bag several oranges without incident. I want to ask him about himself but he's already a step away, about to leave.

"I should get going; I have to be somewhere soon. But it was good seeing you." He nods toward my belly. "Congratulations."

* * *

We're at the movies when he starts to kick.

Edward is beside me, engrossed with what's going on onscreen, when I pull his hand from the armrest and put it on my belly. I watch as his expression melts into the biggest smile.

It's probably all that popcorn and chocolate, but the baby is being frisky and moves around for quite some time. Edward never moves his hand, even after he's started watching the movie again. Instead he pushes and pats, traces patterns with his fingers, touching the bumps when they bump.

I've kind of zoned out now, lost interest in the movie. I remember the first time I felt the baby move, the tiny flutter. The look on Edward's face that night when he came home and I told him. How we lay in bed that night and waited for it to happen again so he could feel it. It was a while before he could actually feel the things I felt.

We would've been okay, would have been _complete_ without any more children, but this happening just makes sense. It feels long overdue in some ways. I don't even try to make sense of things anymore. They just fit.

Messy and tangled and perfect.

Later, in bed, I try to doze but can't because the baby like to move when I settle down. It's funny and weird to watch the way my skin ripples and moves. Edward says it reminds him of that Alien movie, which is both amusing and gross.

We have a TV in our bedroom so sometimes Sophie falls asleep in our bed. Like Edward, she likes to touch me when the baby starts moving. She's next to me now, her breathing shallow and steady, sleeping in some weird position only little kids can get away with.

"You want to bring her in?" I finally ask Edward. The bed is big, but three's a crowd.

"Yeah, give me a minute." He clicks quietly on his laptop for a few more minutes and then shuts it down.

I kiss Sophie's face before Edward takes her and then roll on to my side. I hear him moving around the house, checking locks and flipping switches. He returns to our room and the television goes off and then our lights.

He's gentle and I'm sleepy and we touch and kiss easy going and slow for awhile.

But then he uses his tongue and he uses his fingers and I'm awake. He sets things on fire when he moves like that. I used to keep the thought confined but now that I can tell him, I tell him all the time –that I want forever, that I want always. He's given it to me, but still I think about it, maybe because I was so close to never having it again.

"Love you," he groan-whispers, sending his words to the deepest parts of me, where he is moving deep and loving me so good it's hard to breathe.

"Love you too."

Sleep comes quickly, and

it is all

sweet.

* * *

_**end.**_

* * *

_thanks to all of you who reviewed, messaged, and recommended this story. it makes me all warm and happy inside, like drinking hot chocolate with marshmallows._

_ i'll be posting an outtake within the month... adt216 won it during the FGB auction and is allowing me to share it. :)_

_xoxo_


	34. FGB Outtake

_All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without their express written authorization._

* * *

I curl my fingers around Shiloh's little socked toes, happiest when I'm touching him.

He's sleeping, as usual. That's one of my favorite things about the sling; he can sleep comfortably in it while I do what I need to without worrying about him. I never forgot about Jessica and her sling in the supermarket that one day and when the time came I made sure to get one of my own.

I like it also because the emptiness fades when Shiloh is so near to _where he began_. I'd heard of post partum depression, of the sadness that came with being physically separated from the baby, but I hadn't experienced it with Sophie and I certainly didn't expect it with Shiloh.

But every time is different. The sadness comes and goes, sometimes subtle, sometimes rolling in like water at high tide. I know one day it will go and not come back and I look forward to that. It helps having my mom close by.

I'm okay, for the most part. Hormones and moodiness are facts of life right now; Edward and Sophie know when to avoid me and when to coddle me.

"This one, for sure," Sophie says, walking up with a huge pumpkin. "It can be the jack-o-lantern for the porch."

"It's perfect," I agree, motioning for her to put it in to her red wagon. It's in fine company, surrounded pumpkins large and tiny, ghostly white and deep orange. "I think we're good, Sophie."

"Just one more," she calls, already disappearing.

It's a good day for the pumpkin patch, a Saturday chilly and bright and dry. The end of October, when the sky is blue and clear on the good days, too cold to be cloudy.

Edward would have come, but in the end having a few quiet hours in the house to catch up on paperwork and work stuff won out. And I don't mind. Sophie helps with the baby and half the time the baby's asleep anyway.

It's peaceful here, even with little kids running amuck, hide and seek and tag amongst rows of pumpkins and haystacks.

* * *

Every night, I put Shiloh in his bassinette before my shower and every night I come out to find him in bed with his daddy. Edward likes to lay down with the baby on top of him, tucking his head beneath his chin, smelling his baby smell.

I know it's what he's doing because I watch them do this all the time. And because I do it myself.

"You'll never guess who I saw today," Edward says, his eyes following me around the bedroom.

"Who?"

"That guy you used to date… Garrett."

"Oh yeah? Where'd you see him?"

"Thriftway. I stopped by the deli for lunch. He was in line and we got to talking."

"He's in town a lot, isn't he?" I muse, sitting on the bed and lotioning my legs.

"He lives here now."

"Really? Since when?"

Edward shrugs, his hand rubbing absently up and down Shiloh's back. "I don't know but, he's getting married. A girl he works with in Port Angeles who's from here."

I close the bottle of lotion and lay back next to Edward and the baby.

I'm surprised, but not very. Garrett was always a great catch. I remember finding it remarkable that he was single back when we met.

"I'm glad." Yawning a little, I play with one of the miniature pumpkins Sophie left in our room, rolling it between my hands. "He deserves a happy ending."

"He does," Edward says quietly. "He's a nice guy. Did you ever think he might be the one for you? Back when you were with him?"

"No," I say, rolling on to my side. "He was great but… he wasn't you. Even then you were in my heart… it was awful." I say it like I'm teasing – and I am – but there's a grain of truth in it too.

"Yeah, that was a rough time," he sighs, shaking his head. "I didn't think I'd ever be happy at home again. I used to … dread coming home sometimes."

I listen quietly, wanting him to tell me.

"We didn't fight all that much, but when we did it sucked. We tried to keep it from Jaime, but he knew. The rest of the time it was so… _neutral_." He stops, looking over at me. I watch as the wrinkles in his forehead smooth out. "Let's never be neutral, okay?"

"Okay," I agree.

"I want to always feel this way with you."

"You will. We will."

His eyes are wet. My heart slows down, wanting me to pay attention. "I never stopped loving you, Bella," he whispers, carefully placing the baby between us so he can lie on his side and look at me the way I'm looking at him. "My other relationships never had a chance. My one hundred percent was always more like seventy five."

I nod, dragging my knuckles beneath my eyes to wipe the tears away.

"With you, one hundred's not enough. I want to give you everything," he says.

"You do." Our fingers meet in the middle and tangle. "You gave me my life back, Edward. You gave me this." I move our hands so that they lay lightly on the baby.

For a long while we just lie still and breathe, gazing at each other and the little life we together helped create.

Sometimes things are so good I'm near breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it's pointless, futile, because the shoe never does drop. Or maybe it drops every time and rightfully so because that's life, the hills and the valleys - and I don't even know it.

But it's always all right.

He gives my fingers one last squeeze before letting go. We roll out of bed at the same time; he picks up Shiloh while I roll the bassinette closer to my side of the bed. We place him inside and walk wordlessly down the hall.

Sophie always kicks the blankets off. I pull them back up and tuck them tight around her.

In the room across the hall, Jaime's fallen asleep with his DS in his hands. I put it on his nightstand and Edward turns off the light.

Satisfied that all's well we come back to our room and climb in to bed. It's still too soon after the baby to be intimate the way we'd like to but there are other ways to love each other and we always do.

My eyes are fluttering shut when Shiloh whimpers and starts to cry.

I pull him out of his little bed and into ours.

* * *

_thanks again, adt216, for allowing this to be posted (and for donating so generously to Alex's Lemonade Stand for the Fandom Gives Back Auction)._

_i've loved corresponding with you guys, through PMs, reviews and twitter. you're the best. if you want to kick it, i'm roglows on twitter; i follow back always (as long as you're in the fandom and not spamming me with half price electronics or real estate.)_

_lastly, i''ll be starting a new story soon. it's a high school fic if that's your thing. _

_xoxo_


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